Faded
by Dawn N
Summary: Sick!Dean and Limp!Sam. PrePilot, Season 1. Dean is stricken with an illness that may cost him his life unless he gets a transplant from his perfect match, his little brother. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Shadows and Light

Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters were created by Eric Kripke and are owned by the CW Network. No profit is being made.

**NOTE TO READERS:** This story has both Dean and Sam angst and could be considered AU. This is a season 1, pre-pilot story. Sam has only been at Stanford a few months and hasn't met Jessica yet. In the series Sam was with Jessica for a year and half before she died. She died on the show November 2, 2005, so I put their meeting around April 2004 give or take. So, this story takes place beginning in July 2003. This chapter isn't huge … around ten pages, but chapter 2 should be longer.

I hope you enjoy this newest chapter story. I'm hoping to get in finished in five chapters, but I'll have to see how it evolves, could be a little longer. Happy reading, I hope!

**SIDE NOTE:** MELD scoring information: The Model for End-Stage Liver Disease (MELD) is a numerical scale, ranging from 6 (less ill) to 40 (gravely ill), used for liver transplant candidates age 12 and older. It gives each person a 'score' (number) based on the urgency he or she needs a liver transplant within the next three months. The number is based on three routine lab test results and those results garner a specific number to be assigned to the patient.

UNOS: stands for United Network for Organ Sharing

**Faded**

**Chapter One: **

**Shadow and Light**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_When the hour is upon us … and when the day has all but ended and our echo starts to fade, no you will not be alone … you will not be afraid … I will not let you down…" _Excerpt from Rob Thomas, _Now Comes the Night_

**July 2003, University of Washington Medical Center, Seattle, Washington**

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Sadikov began. "As I've said I have never seen such an aggressive case of viral hepatitis C in someone as young as your son."

"He's getting worse," John hissed. "He's so yellow he's practically orange."

"I know the jaundice is bad," Dr. Sadikov relented. "We're doing everything we can right now."

"You said he was placed on the UNOS list for a transplant, right?"

"Yes, I had him placed last week based on his MELD score … the scoring system I mentioned to you previously," John nodded.

"But, you evaluate him everyday, right?" John hedged.

"Yes, I have to in order to see if he qualifies to be moved up on the list or has to be moved down further. He was responding to treatment up until last week when his liver function decreased further. Are you sure that a living donor transplant is still out of the question?" Dr. Sadikov studied John Winchester.

"No, he won't let me call his younger brother. He doesn't want my youngest to know he's even sick."

"Mr. Winchester, how you deal with your family isn't my concern, but Dean is my patient and I need to reiterate that his condition isn't improving and with his rare blood type and tissue type it's highly unlikely we'll find a perfect donor liver." John nodded.

"And, you're absolutely positive I can't donate a lobe of my liver to Dean?" The doctor shook his head.

"I know you were hopeful you'd match, but you're simply not a possible candidate. His brother might likely be the godsend Dean needs, although he would need to be tested in order to be sure."

"Dean forbid me to call Sam. He doesn't want to put his little brother in any danger or risk his health. I tried to talk to him about it again last night, but he wouldn't hear of it and he only became more agitated and I don't want to upset him."

"I understand, but it could become necessary for you to go against your son's wishes and call his sibling. For the most part living donor transplants usually go well for the donor, although I would be remiss to imply there aren't some donors that have had complications. Mr. Winchester I don't need to tell you how sick your son is …"

"But, he's holding his own right now?"

"Yes, but should his MELD score increase further and as aggressive as his strain of Hep C is … I'm worried he may be running out of time quicker than expected, but for now unfortunately his score is low enough that he is currently only 43 rd on the regional UNOS list."

"43 is pretty good, right? I mean there has to be thousands of people on that list waiting for a liver … 43 is good," John hedged.

"Not really, when there are two other waiting recipients with his same blood type ahead of him."

"So, if a liver becomes available one of them gets first dibs, right?" The doctor nodded.

**Twenty-Minutes Later, ICU **

"Hey sport," John spoke casually as he walked into the room. Dean looked at him with tired eyes and offered a thin smile.

"Hey Dad," he replied as he let the remote to his TV rest on his stomach. "You talk to the doc?"

"Yeah, same old same old. He told me your 43 on the UNOS list, so that's good news," John didn't want to tell Dean what Dr. Sadikov had said about it not being a good placement. "We're going to get you better in no time," he encouraged. He looked at his son. Dean's normally healthy looking skin was a bold yellow-orange from the jaundice from the liver failure. There were multiple IV lines and wires snaking away from and into his eldest child. His heart monitor beeped steadily. There was a blood pressure cuff attached to his left bicep and a blue pulse-ox clip on his right index finger. Dean looked exhausted and incredibly fragile in John's eyes.

"Yeah, 43 is good," Dean answered lethargically.

"Dean …" John began.

"Don't Dad," Dean's voice warning. "You're not callin' Sammy."

"But…"

"No But," Dean ground out. "Now drop it," he picked up the remote and went back to watching television. John let out a quiet sigh as he dropped a comforting hand on his child's forearm. He still fought to make peace with how everything developed. John recalled two months ago when Dean's fatigue was beginning to effect his abilities on a hunt and then the abdominal pain had started. John blamed himself for not forcing Dean to a doctor sooner, and then the doctor had admitted Dean almost immediately because his liver enzymes were high and it was just a couple days later that jaundice had begun to set in. John sighed and rubbed a tired hand across his eyes. _All of this from a damn hunt and a fucking dirty needle in an alley_, John's mind screamed silently.

**Ten Months ago, October 2002, New York City, an alley in the Bronx **

"Dammit!" Dean hissed as he ducked behind a dumpster.

"Are you hurt?" John barked as he crouched down next to his son looking in the alley trying to see if he could locate the spirit they were hunting. The spirit had been haunting an abandoned textile building and its adjacent alley. Unfortunately, the alley was a frequent hangout for junkies who had a weakness for heroin. The alley was vacant tonight, but the tall tale signs were lying all about … used dirty syringes, make shift tourniquets left behind and a few dirty spoons discarded all showing signs that junkies had been cooking their drugs.

"No," Dean complained as he pulled a syringe out of his leg and tossed it. John looked down.

"You get stuck with that thing?"

"Nah, it got stuck in my jeans Dad, I'm good … let's get this bitch." John smiled at his eager son and nodded. Dean watched his father stand up from behind the dumpster and walk into the alley. He frowned as he rubbed absently at his leg. _Why tell his Dad he was stuck, it was a stupid little needle_, _he'd clean it up with some alcohol later on tonight at the motel… no big deal_, he thought to himself.

**Ten Months Later, Present Day, the ICU**

John sat by his son's bedside and watched him sleep. They sedated him at night, so that he would rest. Dean's sleep wasn't very restful since he became ill and the hospital staff kept him medicated for pain and gave him a mild sedative at night to insure he had as restful a sleep as possible. John watched his child's chest rise and fall slowly. He studied Dean's sleeping features and his chest ached at not being able to take this suffering from him. Dean needed his brother in more ways than one and John wanted desperately to call his youngest. They hadn't spoken since their last big fight when he told him if he were going to leave then never come back. It had been a mistake the moment the words left his mouth and that was almost a year ago.

He shook his head as he thought back to how they had got here. He know knew Dean had lied to him about getting stuck by the dirty needle. If he had told him about it then, maybe none of this would be happening. He could have had the needle analyzed had Dean put on medications that would have prevented the viral hepatitis from taking over his son's liver. There were a lot of should have and could of thoughts that ran through his head. He had told the doctors that he was a private investigator and that Dean was in training for the family business. He had explained there had been a case that they had worked on where Dean came into contact with a used, dirty needle. He was so angry with himself and that hunting had put his first born at death's door.

**Two Days Later, ICU **

John glanced over the doctor's shoulder at Dean as the doctor talked to him. "His condition is getting worse," the doctor announced.

"He's not been making much sense," John replied distractedly.

"He's running a fever and his body is becoming more toxic everyday, Mr. Winchester, he's delirious. I was able to reclassify him this morning and he has moved up on the UNOS list … he's at 20 now."

"Twenty? He's out of his mind when he's conscious," John hissed. "He keeps asking for his mom and she died when he was four. He's mumbling about stuff that happened when he was little. How can you justify twenty?"

"I'm sorry, I know this is frustrating, but the numbers are based on his lab tests and as sick as he is Mr. Winchester he still isn't able to be ranked higher in relation to others who are waiting and he isn't a Status 1 candidate yet, and frankly I hope we aren't at that point anytime soon, but..."

"Status 1?"

"Once a patient is classified Status 1 they are moved to the top of the regional list and the national list … status 1 usually means we feel the patient has seven days or less to live if they don't get a transplant. But, there are other status 1 patients, so unfortunately the patient still has to wait his or her turn for an available and appropriately matched organ."

"Seven days or less…" John's voice trailed off as he stared through the window into Dean's ICU cubicle.

"I think it's time you called your other son. I can arrange for him to be tested at Stanford University Medical Center … he's a student at the university, isn't he?"

"Yes, but Dean still …"

"Mr. Winchester with all due respect you're the parent and yes your son is an adult, but he signed over medical power of attorney to you."

"I need to talk to him. He's been lucid some of the time." The doctor sighed.

**Later that Afternoon**

Dean's breathing had become more labored and they had removed the nasal cannula and replaced it with an oxygen mask. ICU staff were in and out frequently changing IV bags and injecting various meds. Dean looked horrible. He was dying and John was sure of this cold hard fact. "Son?" he spoke softly. "You have to fight, okay?" John encouraged. He reached up and stroked Dean's forehead gently with a thumb. "Dean, please," his voice grabbed in his throat.

"Dad?" the voice was a mere whisper and John looked into Dean's weary eyes. "Dad?" Dean spoke into the oxygen mask causing it to fog slightly.

"Hey, there kiddo," John answered with a soft smile. "It's good to see you awake. How are ya doing?" It was a stupid question, he knew, but asked anyway.

Dean offered a thin smile. "I'm good," he reached feebly up at his mask. John caught his hand easily.

"No, son, you need that, okay? I can hear you just fine."

"Thirsty," Dean whispered.

"Okay, the doc said you could have some ice chips," John answered as he stood up and grabbed a plastic spoon and filled it with some ice chips left near the bed. He gently lowered the oxygen mask and lifted Dean's head gently. "Easy, kiddo," he encouraged as he slid the spoon into Dean's mouth. "Enough?" Dean nodded. John gently returned the oxygen mask.

"Thanks Dad," Dean's voice was weak.

"Dean," John began tentatively. "The doc thinks it's time we …"

"No," Dean tried to sound forceful but it came out sounding like a loud whisper. "I'll wait for a donor … they aren't touching Sammy." His eyes blazed protectiveness for his little brother despite his weakened state. John felt such pride for his eldest child and complete frustration all at the same time for his stubborn nature he could only blame himself for … the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Maybe…"

"No, I don't wan…" Dean's voice cut off suddenly and a monitor began to beep wildly. John stood up alarmed and a few seconds later he watched Dean's eyes roll back into his head as he began to seize violently. John felt himself physically pulled from the room as staff poured into Dean's ICU room. Before a curtain was pulled he heard four words that chilled him to his soul, _dammit, lost his pulse_ and then he was moved out of the unit by a staff member that led him to the ICU family waiting room adjacent to the unit and was left there to wait.

**Two Hours Later, ICU **

"Mr. Winchester we're out of time," the doctor rubbed a tired hand across his face. "We almost lost him in there. I've run the lab tests twice now and as I've said before your son's case has been very aggressive. Dean suffered a seizure that brought on the cardiac arrest. He was down almost twelve minutes before we got his heart beating again. He's lapsed into a coma and is ventilator dependant now. He's officially at a level 1 status now and the one thing he has going for him is that the other patients on the list with his same blood type in this region aren't level 1's yet, and there is only one other on the national level 1 list, but the chances are poor that we'll find a donor in time. I'm sorry…"

John stood up from the chair, his mind made up. "Can you call Stanford and make arrangements for my youngest to get tested?"

"Yes, of course, but he'll have to agree…" John stopped the doctor from talking.

"Sam will come. It's his brother, he'll do anything for Dean. Just make the arrangements and I'll call my son at school. When you have the details let me know and I'll tell Sam where to go and who to see." The doctor nodded and left. There were preparations to be made if a living donor transplant was going to happen.

John walked out of the ICU after briefly stopping to see Dean and touch his child. He stepped outside the unit and took a steadying breath. He took out his cell phone and made the call to his youngest son. The phone rang three times and an unfamiliar voice answered, John assumed it must be that Zach kid Sam was roommates with on campus in the dorms.

"Hello?"

"I need to speak with Sam Winchester," John was all business.

"One sec," Zach replied.

"Hey, Sam, phone," he shouted.

_Can you take a message? I'll call back in a minute…_ John's chest ached when he heard that distant voice in the background. It was his Sammy, his baby boy.

"Can…" John cut Zach off instantly.

"No, he can't call me back," John barked. "Tell him there is a family emergency."

"Sam, sounds important … family emergency," Zach sounded serious.

"Dean!" Sam voiced barked into the phone a quick moment later. "You okay? Dad alright?" John couldn't help the smile that crept across his face at his son's voice.

"Sam…"

"Dad? Where's Dean? What's happened?"

"Sammy …" The soft nature to his father's voice shook Sam to his core. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

"Dad?" the one word held such desperation and vulnerability that John wished he could reach through the phone and comfort his son. He sounded like a scared child. He took a breath and spoke.

"It's Dean …"

"He's okay, right?" Sam's voice shook.

"Dean's been sick," John began.

"Been sick? How long?" Sam barked. "Why the hell didn't you call me sooner?"

"He begged me not to call Sammy …"

"Where are you?"

"University of Washington Medical Center."

"Seattle?"

"Yeah."

"How long Dad?"

"A little over a month."

"Jesus!" Sam hissed. "How sick is Dean? What's wrong?"

"It's a long story on the why Sam, but he has hepatitis C, a really aggressive version and his liver is failing. The doc says he needs a transplant but his blood type is rare and…"

"He's dying?" Sam's voice shook.

"Sammy, he had a seizure earlier and his heart stopped. He's in a coma now and the doc thinks he's only got about a week unless he can get a new liver."

"There has to be something they can do," Sam replied in a hurried voice. "I gotta be with him."

"Sammy, there is something, maybe…"

"What?"

"Dean's eligible for a live donor transplant…"

"Live?"

"Yeah, the liver apparently can be donated in sections or something and it regenerates. I was tested but I didn't match…"

"Would I?" Sam asked quickly.

"That's what the doc is hoping but you need tested?"

"What do I have to do?" Sam fought the hot sting of tears at the thought of his big brother lying in some ICU unit hooked to machines keeping him alive. John looked up when he heard the ICU doors open and saw the doctor with a notepad.

"I see the doctor now he was supposed to see about setting up testing at Stanford for some of the preliminary tests."

**Three Hours Later, Stanford University Medical Center**

Everything had happened so quickly the moment Sam arrived at the hospital. He'd been met by a Dr. Bloom who quickly began explaining tests and having him sign consent papers. Sam's blood and tissue type were checked and verified against the faxed results from Dean's file. He went through with an x-ray and EKG, so the doctor could rule out any heart or lung disease. Sam also underwent a procedure called an arteriogram that the doctor explained would be a simple injection of a liquid that is visible under x-ray and the liquid goes into the blood vessels to view the organ to be donated. Sam knew there was more complicated aspects to the test, but he just wanted the basics and for everything to add up to being able to help his big brother. The doctor had said that if everything checks out on this end he will be approved as a living donor for his brother, however he would have to undergo two final blood tests in Seattle that they would have to directly compare with a blood sample from Dean. Sam was told his blood would be cross matched to Dean's and would also receive an antibody serum test.

"Okay, Sam," Dr. Bloom walked into the exam room. "Everything is a green light on this end."

"I match? I can donate to my brother?"

"Well, at least on this end you're a perfect match … it doesn't get any better," the doctor looked confident.

"But, the two blood tests I have to do in Seattle…"

"Relax Sam, I really don't think there will be a problem with them. I've already faxed the result of the tests to Dr. Sadikov, your brother's transplant physician. "He gave you the thumbs up and there has been a medical helicopter allocated to fly you directly to the hospital from here. In fact, as strange as it may seem they have dispatched an organ procurement team to pick you up and get you to Seattle."

"When?" Sam's stomach was in knots, but not out of fear for himself but getting there quickly knowing that each minute was one less Dean had to left to live.

"Ten minutes until they land here."

**Twenty Minutes Later, the helipad on the roof of Stanford Medical Center**

"Mr. Winchester, just relax and we'll be in Seattle in 60 to 70 minutes," Sam nodded and leaned back against the leather seat he was sitting in. He looked down at the helipad as the large medical helicopter lifted off and Palo Alto came into view and he saw the university a short distance away.

**Meanwhile, University of Washington Medical Center, the ICU**

"Charge to 360!" Dr. Sadikov barked as the paddles hovered over Dean's exposed chest. "Clear!"

"No conversion," a nurse called out.

"Dammit, Dean come on," the doctor ground out. "Push an epi/lidocaine bolus," Dr. Sadiokov ordered and he began compressions. "Holding CPR …" he glanced at the monitor.

"No pulse. He's in V-fib."

"Charge to 400," the doctor ordered. "Come on Dean," he encouraged. He lowered the paddles to Dean's chest, "Clear!"

**To Be Continued**

**I hope you liked chapter one. It wasn't very long, but there will be another chapter coming soon and it should be longer. I'm going to try and update once or twice a week depending on the time I have to write. I was going to finish this story first and then post, but decided to try and at least post at a minimum once a week, but maybe twice if time permits.**

**Chapter Two is being written and is coming along and when its ready I'll update.**


	2. Darkness Falls

Disclaimer: refer to chapter 1

**NOTE TO READERS: **Okay, I've heard from some readers who are in shock that this is a Limp!Dean story since all of my others are Limp!Sam … well, rest easy! When have I ever let Sam off the hook easily, hmm? The note to readers in chapter one said "Dean angst and Sam angst" and I meant it. So, that means to expect rough roads for both boys. Now, I want to say thanks to everyone that took the time to read and review. I'm happy with the positive responses. Thanks again! Happy reading :::fingers crossed:::

This chapter is around 12 pages long.

**Chapter Two:**

**Darkness Falls**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_Once there was a darkness, deep and endless night, you gave me everything you had, oh you gave me light…" _excerpt by Sarah McLachlan, _I Will Remember You_

**Ten Minutes Later, ICU**

"Mr. Winchester, I know you don't want to hear this but Dean really isn't stable enough for a transplant and this most recent cardiac arrest is a testament to that, but there is no way around the surgery…"

"You're saying Dean might die on the table aren't you?"

"It's a strong possibility," Dr. Sadikov replied.

"But, Sam … he goes through major surgery and loses part of his liver and what if Dean dies on the table…" John felt torn.

"Dean will die without the liver John," the doctor tried a different tactic. "Sam was briefed on his end regarding the procedure and he knows how critically ill his brother is. Sam's liver will regenerate itself. The lobe will grow back. If Dean can pull through the surgery John he has an excellent chance of a full recovery. Your youngest son's lab results that were faxed to me … he's a perfect match for Dean. It's the kind of perfect match you hope for…"

"I need to be with Dean," John replied in a distracted voice. "When will Sam be here?"

"The last ETA I was given is thirty minutes. When Sam arrives he'll undergo the additional blood tests I told you about. I've looked at his CT and MRI scans of his liver and everything looks good. Once Sam gets the final approval which I don't see not happening he'll be admitted and briefed in detail about the procedure and the possible risks…"

"But, these risks," John began. "You said most donors do okay, right? My boy isn't in any real danger is he?"

"There is risk with any surgery Mr. Winchester and Sam will be given every opportunity to back out. It's a big decision for a young man of twenty to make." John shook his head.

"It's not really a choice," he scoffed. "Sammy would do anything for Dean even if that means he's putting himself at risk. To save or not to save his only brother's life isn't really a choice or a fair decision."

"I know this is difficult, but it's Dean's only hope at this point. I've begun the rapid induction immunosuppressant therapy on Dean to help prepare his body to receive the new organ."

"You mean the steroids and other drugs you explained to me that Dean has to have in order to prevent rejection?"

"Yes."

**Two Hours Later, ICU**

John sat holding Dean's limp hand in his own. The mechanical rise and fall of Dean's chest made John feel helpless. The doctor had said Dean's blood was toxic and needed cleaned, so they had begun a procedure they called veno-venous hemodialysis and his body needed all the extra help they could give him going into surgery and Dr. Sadikov felt the hemodialysis would help Dean prior to surgery.

John hadn't seen Sam yet and he wanted to desperately, but there was still a level of apprehension. The last time they had been in the same room with one another had been when Sam left for school and John had told him never to come back. He knew his youngest son was in the hospital now, but was undergoing a couple tests and an additional MRI. John was staring at Dean lost in his own thoughts when a sudden intake of air behind him caused him to look over his shoulder and he met eyes with his wayward son.

"Sam," he stood up. Dr. Sadikov stood behind Sam.

"God, look at him," Sam stared with wide horrified eyes at his older brother's physical appearance. There was a mass of machines surrounding him and the room was filled with beeps and clicks and to Sam the noise almost seemed cacophonous. But, it was Dean's dark yellow skin tone that made the bile rise in Sam's throat. John knew his child and that look, he quickly grabbed a plastic basin near the bed and grabbed Sam as he folded over and threw up.

"It's okay Sammy, slow breaths, okay. Easy, kiddo," John soothed as he squeezed Sam's shoulder. The doctor rushed forward, but John held up a hand and met eyes with the doctor giving his head a small shake. "He's alright. Can we have a few minutes?" The doctor nodded.

"It's okay for him to drink some water," the doctor replied before leaving. The surgery isn't being scheduled until tomorrow morning. He won't be able to eat or drink after 7:00 tonight. I'll be in the unit when you're ready for us to discuss tomorrow." John nodded.

A few minutes later Sam had settled into a chair next to his big brother. "Sam?"

"Not now Dad," Sam replied abruptly. "It's not the time or place."

"Fair enough," John relented. "You look good, though," he commented with a wry smile. "I haven't seen you for a while."

"That was your choice," Sam's voice was quiet, but the bitter tone couldn't be mistaken. Sam turned to fully look at his father. "Why'd you listen to him?" Sam inclined his head to his comatose sibling. "You should have called sooner," he hissed in anger. "You wait until he's days away from dying and on life support to call." Sam was quietly smoldering and John knew that.

"I wanted to, but when he was conscious he'd get so agitated that I just couldn't stress him out. He was only worried about you Sammy. It's major surgery you have to go through and…"

"Screw that Dad, screw you both," Sam hissed quietly. "I can be pissed at him because he's an overprotective, stubborn ass of a big brother, but you … you're the parent, and you should have taken some responsibility and called me. He could die and …"

"Don't you think I don't know how bad I screwed up letting Dean have the say?" John complained with a slightly heated tone. "I was with him when his heart stopped … not once but twice. He's my child," John continued. "I know if he dies it's my fault, okay? If I had forced his hand and just called you when he was in serious condition then this could have all been avoided. I know, okay," John spat quietly.

"I just want him to be okay," Sam replied quietly as his eyes shifted back to Dean's face.

John's hard look softened. "Me too," he whispered. "Me too."

**Two Hours Later, ICU Conference Room**

"Sam," Dr. Sadikov started. "It's important that you know the risks."

"Look Doc, I heard all of this at the hospital in Palo Alto. Anyway, they said serious complications are rare, although I get that they can happen," Sam assured. "I'm okay with them … this is my brother's life. He has days left maybe less to live, right?" The doctor nodded. "And, I'm his best chance, right?"

"Yes," the doctor agreed.

"Sammy," John hedged.

"Stop," Sam ground out. "Dean's just being a stubborn bastard. I'm not six anymore and I don't need him making decisions for me like he used to, okay? I've read the paperwork and I've been told about the surgery and what'll happen. If something goes wrong," Sam paused a moment. "Then it goes wrong … as long as it saves Dean … I'll take whatever comes." John felt such pride for his youngest son. "And, if and I mean if something goes wrong I want you to make sure Dean knows I went into this with my eyes open and I had no regrets."

"Sammy don't talk like that," John suddenly felt worried.

"Just promise me, okay?" John wanted to say more, but he knew the set line to Sam's jaw and knew that anything else would only explode matters between them.

"I promise to tell him, but it won't come to that," John encouraged.

"Sam we should get you settled in your room in the observation unit and let you get some sleep before surgery in the morning. I'll allow ice chips at your bedside, but you aren't allowed to drink or eat at this point. You met Dr. Broden and Dr. Jessup earlier and they will be the two transplant surgeons in the OR tomorrow. You'll have Dr. Broden and Dr. Jessup will be operating on Dean."

"It's at 6 AM isn't it?" John asked.

"Yes, we like to do transplant surgeries nice and early. As I said Sam's procedure should take around 5 to 8 hours and if we're lucky we won't have to borrow a portion of one of your leg vessels to connect the donated lobe to Dean. We looked at your venous structures leaving the liver and we think we might have a big enough vessels, but you never can tell until you're in there. As we explained earlier today, if we take a vessel you won't miss it."

"Yeah, do whatever you have to," Sam answered. "And, Dean's surgery?"

"His could take slightly longer maybe 9 hours," the doctor suggested. "They have to remove the diseased liver and prepare the abdominal cavity for the donation. I anticipate you being in recovery for at least 2 to 4 hours and your brother 4 to 6. Also, you'll be moved to ICU after recovery and you'll be next door to your brother's room. I've already made the arrangements. You'll be in the ICU for at least 4 days and then we'll downgrade you to regular room provided there aren't any complications. You'll probably be discharged 7 to 10 days after the surgery."

"Thank you, Dr. Sadikov," John offered a mild smile. "Well, Sammy, I'll walk you to your room with the doc and get you settled."

"No, Dad, I'm good. Stay with Dean he shouldn't be alone. I want to see him one last time before I go to my room, okay?" John and the doctor both nodded.

"I'll prescribe him a mild sedative for his IV tonight John," the doctor assured as they watched Sam walk to his brother's room. "He'll get a good night's sleep and it'll take the edge of his nerves. I don't care how calm he's acting, I know he's stressed."

"Yeah, thanks," John answered.

"This is the only way John. Without this surgery Dean has no chance," the doctor felt compelled to try to calm the worried father, but the magnitude of what was happening in a few hours couldn't be ignored. John simply offered a tight nod.

**Late that Same Night, 3 AM, Observation Unit**

John had settled quietly into a chair beside Sam's bedside. His baby boy was sedated and sleeping soundly. He watched the quiet rise and fall of Sam's breathing. He wanted to spend some time with Sam and just be with him before the surgery. They were doing some procedures on Dean in his room and needed him out for a little while. Dean was miraculously holding his own, although Dr. Sadikov told John earlier that Dean's MELD score was 40 which John knew meant his son was classified as gravely ill. His doctor hadn't removed him from the UNOS list in the event the liver donation didn't take or rejection started despite the meds. John was hopeful that Dean's body would accept Sammy's lobe donation. John checked his watch and stood up. It was time to go be with Dean. He silently wished he could have mended some of the distance he and Sam still obviously had since their last fight. _I'll make it up to you Sammy. We'll work things out while you're recovering_, John thought privately. He placed a hand on Sam's head gently and allowed the worried father in him to come out as he looked down at his sleeping son. He leaned down and gently left a butterfly kiss on Sam's head. John smiled briefly as Sam's unruly mop of chestnut hair tickled his nose. "Love you kiddo," John whispered.

**OR - 1A, 6:15 AM**

"Okay, Sam," Kirk Benedict, M.D., his anesthesiologist leaned over. Sam was groggy from the anti-anxiety injection they gave him during pre-op. "I'm going to administer the medication now. Think of some place nice and the surgery will be over before you know it. Just count backward from 10, please," he encouraged.

"Okay," Sam replied groggily. "10, 9, 8 …"

"He's out," the anesthesiologist replied. "I'll have him tubed and ready to go in a couple minutes." He looked at Sam's transplant surgeon Dr. Broden.

"Okay, good," Dr. Marcus Broden replied. "I know Dr. Jessup will be biting at the bit the moment he removes the diseased liver. Lori," he looked over at one of the surgical nurses.

"Yes?"

"Have they started on Dean yet?" She looked next door through the glass wall.

"Looks like they are prepping him and do some other things … Dr. Jessup hasn't cut yet, and he's not draped yet either."

"He's intubated and ready, Dr. Broden," Kyle Benedict replied as he looked at Sam's saturation levels.

"Okay, let's start the clock people and Lori give the thumbs up that we're starting here." She nodded. "I be ready to cut in a couple minutes."

**Meanwhile, OR 1-B, 6:15 AM **

"They're starting Dr. Jessup," a nurse in Dean's OR called out.

"Okay, folks let get started. He's already on the respirator and anesthesia is already in. Let's get this show on the road. Watch his vitals and let me know if he starts having any cardiac arrhythmias, okay? This kid crashed last night and was a lengthy code, so we're dancing on eggshells with this one." Everyone nodded. "Start the clock."

**The Family OR Waiting Room, 6:20 AM**

A phone rang quietly and the room attendant answered. "Yes, I'll tell him, thank you." The room had a handful of families waiting on other loved ones. "Mr. Winchester?"

"Yes?" John stood up.

"I just wanted to let you know that they've begun the procedure and they will try to provide updates when possible and when the surgery is over each surgeon will come to talk to you regarding which son they operated on."

"Thank you." John sighed and sat back down. He wanted it to be all over and for Dean to be on the mend and for Sammy to come through without any problems. He wanted both his boys to be okay and safe and right now he hated feeling out of control.

**Meanwhile, OR 1 – A, Sam, 1 Hour into Procedure**

"Retractor," Dr. Broden requested. "Dammit, I need some suction here. This kid's a bit of a bleeder." The area was suctioned. "Good, the field is clear. I'm going to start dissecting the left lobe. How's he tolerating the anesthesia?"

"His SAT's are good and vitals are stable," the anesthesiologist replied. Dr. Broden nodded and began with the dissection of Sam's left lobe to be donated to his brother.

**Meanwhile, OR 1 – B, Dean, 1 Hour into the Procedure**

"How are his vitals?"

"He's had some PVC's, but responded to the lidocaine bolus. Blood pressure is 90/60 and holding."

"Push an amp of antropine," Dr. Jessup replied. "I'd like to see his systolic above 110. Let me know when the lobe is removed and I'll proceed with the organ removal and cavity preparation."

His transplant nurse coordinator in the room nodded and proceeded to check with the adjacent OR.

**5 Hours Later, the OR Family Waiting Room**

"Sam's dissection is almost complete and they are checking the vessels to see if they need to take a vessel from his leg. Dean is holding his own and they are preparing him to receive the donation." Paula, the OR patient family liaison spoke to John.

"Thank you," John looked haggard as he sat back down in the chair he'd been occupying most of the morning when he wasn't pacing.

**OR 1 – B, Dean, Thirty Minutes Later**

"Okay, the liver is out. Damn, look at this thing. I'm surprised the kid lasted as long as he did," the doctor commented. "Send a tissue sample to pathology; I want to make sure there weren't any malignancy in the tissue."

"I thought the liver biopsy came back negative for liver cancer a few weeks ago." Dr. Hall, the surgery intern inquired.

"I did, but I just want to make sure there weren't any late developments that could compromise his recovery … just exercising good medicine. The lobe ready?"

"They're flushing the lobe now with saline and preparing the vessel. They've told me the vessels are adequate for transplant and they aren't requiring a donor leg vessel." The transplant nurse conveyed.

"Excellent."

**OR 1 – A, Sam**

"Take the lobe over … it's ready. It looks great, very healthy." Dr. Broden said to his intern as he started the closing procedures for Sam.

**OR 1 – B, Dean, Twenty Minutes Later**

"Perfect … this lobe is perfection," the doctor commented. "Let's get the transplant started." There was a sudden commotion next door and the doctor looked up. "Amy, see what's happening over there and let us know." The nurse nodded and the doctor and his intern went to work on Dean.

**OR 1 – A, Sam**

"Sonofabitch, what the hell happened? The kid was stable…" Dr. Broden hissed. "Push a bolus of epi and lidocaine. Kevin start compressions."

"You think he threw a clot?" Kevin Hart, the young intern grunted as he continued CPR on Sam.

"Maybe, stop compressions." He glanced at the monitor. "He's in VF get the paddles. Charge to 360." The doctor took the paddles, "Clear!"

"No response."

"Come on kid…." Dr. Broden commanded.

**Three Hours Later, the OR Family Waiting Room**

"Mr. Winchester, Dean's surgery is complete and they are taking him to recovery. His doctor has asked to speak with you in our family post surgery briefing room."

"He made it through?" John's voice was hopeful.

"Yes," she confirmed.

"What about Sam? My other son…" She looked at John with a passive face before speaking.

"Sam's doctor will be talking to you separately from Dr. Jessup, Dean's surgeon. They only provided me the news that Dean's transplant surgery was complete and he was on his way to recovery." John nodded.

"Then Sam is probably there too. Where is this meeting room?"

"I'll show you."

**Ten Minutes Later**

"Like I said Mr. Winchester, Dean's vital are coming up and the liver lobe he received was beautiful. It pinked up quickly and was even producing some bile before we closed him up. It's amazing we didn't lose him on the table. He's got a will to live and that's what matters now."

"What about the coma? The life support?"

"I think as this new liver does its magic Dean will come out of the coma and as soon as he begins triggering the vent and is strong enough we will start to wean him off of the ventilator. Things are looking very positive for your son right now. He's not out of the woods yet and he's still critical, but things are looking up."

"What about my son Sam? I haven't seen Dr. Broden yet."

"He's on his way. I wasn't your son's surgeon, so I can't comment on him, only on Dean's aspect of the procedure." There was a knock at the door and Dr. Broden stuck his head inside. "Well, that's my cue to go. Mr. Winchester should you have any questions, please don't hesitate to have me paged. I'll be looking in on Dean later once he's settled back in his ICU room."

"Thank you for saving my son's life, Dr. Jessup."

"No thanks needed. Your son is a fighter, he gets most of the credit and of course, your other son for donating to his brother. If you need anything…"

"Thanks." John turned his eyes toward Dr. Broden as he sat down across from him at the table and Dr. Jessup showed himself out and closed the door. "So, is Sammy in recovery, too? Is he awake yet?" John pushed forward with the questions.

"John," the doctor began and suddenly John knew something was wrong.

"What's wrong?" John's eyes were panicked as they scanned the doctor's face.

"There were some complications…"

"Complications? Tell me how my son is," John demanded.

"John, Sam suffered a sudden onset cardiac arrest on the table…" John's heart felt as if a vice grip were squeezing it. "The arrest was brought on by a clot that must have developed from the liver or a surrounding vessel during the procedure. The clot was confirmed with a scan in the OR. We were able to get his heart started again, but he was down a long time. We had to call in cardiology that put Sam on cardiopulmonary bypass while they performed a cath for his heart to clear the clot. We were able to reestablish a spontaneous pulse with cardiac drugs and cardioversion."

"He's alive," John whispered as he still tried to process the gravity of the situation. "My son was healthy when he went into that OR and you're telling me his heart stopped … for how long?"

"I know this is a lot to take in, but there were always risk Mr. Winchester," Dr. Broden replied. "Sam was in full arrest for ten minutes before he was put on bypass and after he was taken off bypass it took another ten minutes to get his heart beating again."

"How long was he on bypass?"

"One Hour."

"So, you're telling my son had no pulse for over an hour …" John wanted to pummel the man in front of him. Sammy was supposed to be okay. The possible risks were supposed to be rare … he was supposed to bounce back. "He'll be okay now, right? You cleared the clot. Did it damage his heart?"

"No, his heart muscle looks in good shape. There were no signs of heart attack. Mr. Winchester," the doctor began tentatively. "We had neurology perform a MRI with contrast to confirm another worry…"

"Another worry? Neurology? Why's my son seeing brain specialists?"

"We were concerned that when we examined Sam's pupils to ascertain their responsiveness that his gaze is mildly deviated to the left."

"What's that mean deviated?"

"When we open his eyelids to examine his pupils … Sam's gaze is not straight forward but is deviated to the left which is indicative of a cerebral event, like a clot. We believe the clot that went to your son's heart fragmented and a small piece made it's way to his brain."

"You're talking a stroke!" John barked loudly. His eyes were on fire. "You people gave my twenty year old, healthy son a fucking stroke!" John's nerves shattered and with it his decorum.

"Please, Mr. Winchester, I understand…"

"You understand?" John hissed. "So, you have a son that was perfectly healthy one day and a few hours later his heart had stopped been restarted and had a stroke?"

"No, but…"

"No, but … I want to know what you're doing for my son!" John roared.

"It isn't the classic stroke you're thinking of," the doctor started. "The MRI showed a blood clot near Sam's brain stem in the back portion of his brain in a major vessel." The doctor placed his hand on his own head to show John the general location of the clot. "We are trying drug intervention first as we aren't confident that Sam would tolerate a nuero cath procedure to remove the clot. However, neurology isn't prepared to wait much longer for the med's to work. They are trying to preserve as much brain function as possible and there is the possibility that the clot could shift and if that happens …" the doctor paused. "If it shifts … it's likely that Sam will die within seconds."

John was numb he had two son's in critical condition. Two son's fighting for their lives.

**Four Hours Later, ICU**

He stood staring at Dean. His skin tone looked better. He was still a little jaundice, but it was clear that he was doing much better. He was a bit worried about Dean's puffy features. "It's normal," his afternoon nurse spoke gently over John's shoulder. "They gave him a lot of fluids during surgery and the high dose steroids will cause him to swell and appear puffy, but it'll abate over the next few days or so." John nodded. "I'll leave you alone with him for a little bit. I'll be in and out of here a lot to check his vitals and IV's, but you're welcome to stay. He's doing as well as can be expected at this point." She tried to assure the worried father who clearly looked on the razor's edge.

"Thank you. Ugh?"

"Yes," she stopped in the doorway.

"My other son … when will he be brought into the ICU?"

"I'm not sure. I know they took him to the cath lab and the Chief of Neurology is doing the procedure himself. I'm sure Dr. Sadikov will come with news when he has some." Joh could only nod as he sat down and picked up Dean's cool, limp hand.

"Hey kiddo," his voice soft. "You fight Dean," he urged. "I need you and …" his voice grabbed in his throat. "Sammy needs you now more than ever." Silent tears cascaded down his face. His mind plagued with thoughts of losing both his boys … losing one was a nightmare he couldn't get his mind around, but to lose both, he was certain the loss would crush him to dust. He clung to Dean's hand and silently cried for both his children.

**To Be Continued**

**I know I had a few readers worried that they wouldn't get any limp Sam, and you know me … Sam major surgery … How could I not pass up a prime opportunity for complications? So, with luck this should be able to appeal to both hurt Dean and Sam readers. I haven't started chapter 3 yet, but I will soon. Now, since I posted this chapter much earlier than intended … I will try to have chapter 3 ready by this coming weekend, I'll try. **

**I hope you enjoyed chapter 2. Thanks for reading!!!**


	3. Song of Despair

Disclaimer: refer to chapter 1

**NOTE TO READERS: **First, thanks for the all of the reviews! I appreciate them all. Well, here is chapter 3 and I hope you enjoy it. I'm posting a day ahead of schedule. This chapter is around 18 pages long.

**Side Note: **The title of the chapterwas inspired from a Pablo Neruda poem of the same title. Also, the song lyrics utilized later in this story are from the Bing Crosby song, _Don't Fence Me In_.

DNR: stands for 'Do Not Resuscitate'

**Chapter Three**

**Song of Despair**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_my feet will want to march to where you are sleeping, but I shall go on living…" _excerpt by Pablo Neruda, _The Dead Woman_

**Two Days Later, ICU**

"So, he has brain activity?" John clarified as he talked to Dr. Sadikov, Sam's main care physician and Dr. Keener, his neurologist.

"Yes, although it is indicative of a deep coma." Dr. Keener explained. "The clot impeded some blood flow to the brain, but your son luckily has a good vascular system and the impeded blood flow didn't cause a stroke in the sense you're thinking. It falls more under the general classification of a cerebral event."

"But, you said the coma is deep … when do you think he'll wake up?" Dr. Keener shared a look with Dr. Sadikov.

"John," Dr. Sadikov began. "It's possible that the coma may be irreversible because of the brain stem involvement."

"But, you said he's not brain dead and the other day you said Sam's MRI and PET scans were promising…"

"Yes, promising in terms we aren't finding any major damage that would indicate brain damage on a profound to mild scale. If Sam wakes up, it's very hopeful that he could have a full recovery, but when the brain stem suffers trauma, and well, I'll be frank, it's a miracle that Sam survived, as brain stem involvement often equates to either death or profound brain injury."

"When will he be off the ventilator," John looked at Sam's still face.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Keener stepped forward. "Sam has no spontaneous breathing efforts and no active gag reflex. Unless he regains consciousness I don't foresee him ever coming off the ventilator. As long as he remains in the coma we will have to maintain an airway for your son." John's eyes shifted from his son to the doctor's.

"But, he looks perfect," John replied absently. "A little pale, but…"

"I know it's difficult especially when you're dealing with an internal injury. You have no gauge to go by and it's easy to let yourself believe he's just sleeping," Dr. Sadikov spoke gently. "The surgical site is healing nicely and there is no sign of swelling or infection." John nodded at the small bit of good news.

"Sam is still very critical and he'll be in the ICU for a while yet, but his vitals are holding," Dr. Keener added. "The cath we used to evacuate the clot near his brain stem has had no side effects and he came through the procedure as I told you the other day extremely well."

"And, Dean?" John asked as he studied his youngest child's features.

"Dean remains in the coma, but he his vitals are stronger than they were and his urine output is regulating and his liver enzymes for his latest lab test are very good. His blood pressure is a little low, but we're keeping an eye on it. The jaundice is clearing up and is all but gone. I'm happy to report he began triggering the vent earlier this morning, but in order to give his body as much physical rest as possible I'm not weaning him off the ventilator yet."

"So, he's trying to breathe on his own again?"

"Yes."

"Does that mean he'll wake up soon?"

"Let's play it by ear John. Dean has been through major surgery and was in extremely grave condition when he went into the OR. His body needs rest and still has a long row to hoe."

"Can I just sit with my son alone for a while?" John's voice was tired. He was so tired of his children being poked and prodded. He just wanted his boys to be whole and healthy again.

"Certainly," Dr. Sadikov recognized John Winchester's request for what it was … a parent's plea to be alone with his child and for everyone to step back and give him to room to breathe and process the situation. "Dean's transplant surgeon will be stopping by to examine Dean's latest lab results and his incision later today." John nodded.

"I'll be there," he confirmed. Dr. Sadikov nodded and he and Dr. Keener left John alone with Sam.

"Hey, kiddo," John spoke gently as he stroked Sam's arm. "Listen Sammy, I know you're upset with me and I don't blame you," John offered honestly. "What I said to you about if you leave for school not to come back … I was a jack ass. Sam, I was just scared … scared you'd be vulnerable and alone, but I should have thought about what you wanted and needed. I'm sorry," his voice caught. "I need for you to come back to me … to come back to Dean. I need to make things okay between us. I'm so proud of you Sammy and I'm a damn fool for not saying it to you, I've always been proud of you, both my boys."

Sam did flinch, didn't move. The ventilator continued its methodical whoosh and click. The activity outside Sam's room increased suddenly and John casually looked up. It wasn't an uncommon thing, after all, it was an ICU and there were other patients clinging and fighting for life in here. But, he noticed a flurry of activity and there was no mistaking the room … it was Dean's. John stood up quickly. "Sammy, I'll be back." He said hurriedly as he ran toward Dean's room only to be held back by Jan, a unit nurse.

"No, Mr. Winchester, they need room to work."

"To work? He was doing better … Dean?" he called out as if he expected his son to answer him. "What's happening?" he turned anguished eyes toward Jan. Then he heard the tall tale word, _Clear!_ and the distinctive clunk noise he associated with the use of a defibrillator. "No, please, God, no…"

"Please, Mr. Winchester let the doctors work on him," Jan tried to gently lead John back toward Sam's room rather than leave the distraught father to sit in the ICU waiting room alone.

"What happened?" his eyes searching Jan's for answers.

"He suddenly crashed," she offered. "I'm not his primary care nurse, so I'm not sure. The doctors are doing everything they can. Please, just sit with Sam … someone will come to you." John wanted to rebel against her gentle command, but he knew it was pointless. Dean needed help and he needed to let the medical staff save his son. He nodded without another word and sat back at Sam's bedside grasping his young son's hand as if were a life preserver in a storm tossed sea keeping him from drowning in the cresting and crashing waves. He bowed his head and did what he hadn't really done in years … John Winchester prayed.

**One Hour Later, ICU**

John raked a hand over his face as he stood outside Dean's room. "You say is blood pressure bottomed out …" John clarified as he looked at Dr. Sadikov.

"Yes, and it triggered a cardiac arrest. We've started him on an epinephrine drip to keep his hear rate and pressure elevated. We may have to play with the dosages as necessary to prevent another blood pressure episode."

"The transplant," John began. "Is he rejecting it?"

"No, we've run extra tests and so far everything is in the clear. You can sit with him now if you like … Dr. Jessup is done examining the surgical site and lab results. Dean's fighting as much as he's able John, but his body is weak and tired." John nodded.

He walked into Dean's room and sat heavily into the white plastic chair beside the bed. "Hey, Sport," his voice was gruff with emotion. "The doc says you're fighting Dean, please, just hold on," he begged. He grasped Dean's cool hand in his own and examined his son. Dean was still swollen from the steroids and his usually handsome features were hidden under the swelling. His complexion was pale and he was thankful there wasn't much yellow left to his skin tone at all. He could find some solace in the fact the liver was working.

**One Hour Later, ICU**

"Well, kiddo, I need to go check on Sammy, okay? I'll be right back." John wanted to run over and check on Sam. His room was across from Dean's and two doorways down, room 4B. If John arranged his chair just right from either son's room he could see into each room or at the least see when nurses and doctors were coming and going. Dean's room had been busy. They were having to adjust his epinephrine drip frequently in the last twenty minutes or so as they fought to keep his pressure and heart rate up. John reached down and ran a hand over Dean's hair. "I'll be right back."

John walked out the door only to stop suddenly as Dean's heart monitor began to beep wildly and then there was the horrible long wail indicating Dean's heart had stopped. John heard a nurse at the telemetry station call out _Code Blue, Room 1C, Code Blue_.

"We got another Code," an additional nurse from the telemetry station yelled out again. "We need two Code Teams, now!"

John stood paralyzed as he heard a doctor bark orders running into Dean's room and then it dawned on him that a Code Blue was announced for another patient, and then when he heard the room announced _Code Blue, Room 4B_, his heart clenched in his chest. In this moment he was losing both his boys.

"Dean? Sammy?" he whispered as he was escorted from the unit. He was provided a family liaison who sat with him in a private conference room. The floor knew the code blues were for his children and they thought it was best John be given a private room to wait on the news of his two young sons.

**ICU, Dean's Room**

"Charge to 360," Dr. Sadikov barked. "Clear!" Dean's chest convulsed upward in response to the electrical shock.

"No response. Still V-fib."

"Come on Dean … again at 360 … Clear!"

**ICU, Sam's Room**

"Christ!" Dr. Turner yelled. "Continue compressions," he barked to his young intern. He was on duty in the ICU tonight and was familiar with the Winchester boys and that Sam had donated part of his liver to save his brother and had had complications in surgery. "Push an amp of atropine." He glanced at Sam's saturated bandage. "Dammit, stop the heparin, he's bleeding out. Get a blood count on this kid," he yelled. "I think he may be hemorrhaging. His belly's hard as a rock … we got a bleed on our hands … a bad one."

"He's in PEA," the intern glanced at the heart monitor.

"Charge to 300," Dr. Turner called out. "Clear!"

"No response. Still PEA."

"Charge to 360," the doctor commanded. "Clear!"

**ICU, Dean's Room**

"We got him back," a nurse called out as she looked at the monitor. The doctor glanced up to confirm the heartbeat and watched as the rhythm dropped.

"Dammit, he's decompensating. Lost his pulse again. Start compressions. Charge to 400." The activity around Dean was at a fever pitch. "Clear!"

"No response."

"Dean," the doctor's voice commanded. "You're not doin' this kid. Come on," he ordered. "We're going again at 400 … Clear!"

**ICU, Sam's Room**

"Hold compressions," Dr. Turner ordered and looked at the monitor. "Page, Dr. Broden, now!"

"He's in V-Fib," the intern called out.

"Charge to 400 … come on kid … Clear!"

**ICU, Dean's Room**

"Got a pulse," a nurse called out. "He's back." Dr. Sadikov looked at the monitor and watched … the heart rate was holding. He let out a breath. "Increase his drip another 2 cc's."

"Dr. Sadikov," a nurse looked at one of Dean's monitors.

"Yes?"

"He's spiked a low grade fever … 101." Dr. Sadikov rubbed his eyes. "Page Dr. Jessup and run a blood work up."

"You think he's in rejection?"

"I hope not," Dr. Sadikov replied as he listened to Dean's chest with a stethoscope and frowned. "Why you're at it call x-ray and get a portable chest x-ray on him. His lungs sound wet and I think I heard some crackles."

"You thinking pneumonia?"

"Sounds like it, as if this kid needs one more thing to deal with."

**ICU, Sam's Room**

"Got a pulse," the intern called out as he glanced at Sam's heart monitor.

"You're kidding me," Dr. Turner looked at the monitor. "40? Start supplemental compressions before he code's again and let's get this kid to the OR. Push 4 cc's of epi." They urgently rolled Sam's bed out of his room as one staff member continued to ventilate Sam while the intern straddled Sam on his bed and continued compressions as the rest of the staff whisked them down the hallway toward the OR.

"Dr. Broden is meeting you in the OR," a nurse called out to the fleeing group. Dr. Turner waved his hand in reply.

**One Hour Later, ICU Private Conference Room**

John's stomach was in knots as he waited on word of his boys. The liaison had told him that Dr. Sadikov was on his way to provide news on Dean and Sam. There was a brief knock at the door before it opened. John stood up. The doctor offered a thin smile, "No, John please sit." He encouraged as he slid into a seat across from the worried father.

"My boys," John's voice wavered despite his best efforts to sound strong. "What's happening?" Dr. Sadikov took a breath and began.

"Dean is stabilizing. His blood pressure appears to be holding. We are trying to wean him off the epinephrine drip but we're playing it as we go. The drop in pressure precipitated an arrhythmia that caused Dean to arrest. We were able to reestablish a pulse. However, Dean has developed pneumonia which isn't an unexpected possible complication especially with a patient that is on immunosuppressants and has undergone recent major surgery…"

"Pneumonia? What are you doing for him?"

"I've started him on a course of IV antibiotics that should target the pneumonia. He has bilateral pneumonia, which means he has it in both lungs, but I'm confident that the new meds will work. He's running a low grade fever that we're keeping tabs on."

"Fever? Is he in rejection?" John had read the brochures and listened to the doctors and fevers were always a concern.

"Currently he isn't showing signs of rejection and Dr. Jessup was pleased with Dean's new blood work up, so for right now we just need to watch his pressure and get his pneumonia under control."

"But, he's so weak now … how can his body cope with the infection?"

"I won't sugar coat things John," the doctor hedged. "Dean's in bad shape and this infection is just one more thing his body has had to deal with. He's holding on and we're trying to give his body as much support as we can to get him over this hump."

"What about Sammy?" John needed to shift his focus but it was merely shifting from one waking nightmare to another.

"I spoke with Dr. Broden in the OR … Sam …" his voice was hesitant.

"Dammit," John replied under his breath. "Just tell me about my son."

"Sam has been on a drug called heparin since his procedures for the clots. They wanted to keep his blood thin to prevent other clots. Dr. Broden said that Sam had a bleed occur at an internal suture and then the suture ruptured and Sam began to hemorrhage quite heavily. His abdomen became distended and firm very quickly and he went into cardiac arrest due to the rapid blood loss and the dangerous drop in blood pressure that occurred as a result of the hemorrhage."

"He's bleeding internally? Because of a damn drug?"

"Partially, yes, but the drug was necessary John. They have taken him off the heparin and have given him a small dose of a clotting factor. They are using the rapid infuser in the OR trying to get Sam's blood volume up and Dr. Broden is suturing the new bleeds." The doctor was about to continue when the phone rang. The liaison stood and answered it, her face flitted to both men and she motioned for the doctor.

"Dr. Sadikov you need to take this."

John tensed. He knew something was wrong with one of his boys. He watched the doctor's expression which remained strained and his shoulders were tense. He couldn't make out the hushed responses. The doctor hung up the phone and sat back down.

"John," he began hesitantly, "it's Sam…"

"Please," John choked out. "No…" his mind already playing out the scenario in his head. His baby boy was gone. Lost to him forever.

"No, no …" the doctor tried to assure. "He's alive for now, but…"

"But, what?" John barked.

"Sam's heart stopped in the OR again. They put him on bypass while they try to get the bleeders under control and transfuse him. They're hoping the dose of clotting factor kicks in to help Dr. Broden."

"And, if it doesn't…" John felt like the room was swinging side to side.

"John, if they can't get his volume up and the bleeding to stop, so that his heart can properly fill and be restarted … they'll arrange for you to see Sam before they remove him from bypass…" John turned stricken eyes to the doctor.

"See him? Before they remove him from bypass… for what," he bellowed. "To say goodbye?" his voice ended on an agonized whisper.

"Yes." The doctor's reply was quiet and it filled John's soul with a cold and hollowness he had never felt before, not even at the loss of his beloved Mary. Sam was his child, his youngest, this was Sammy.

**One Hour Later, ICU, Dean's Room**

John sat at his son's bedside stroking his forehead and right flushed cheek with a thumb. "You keep fighting Dean. Everything is going to be okay," John's heart was split in two. One half was with Sam in the OR and the other was here with his firstborn. "Hey," John looked at Dean and a soft smile crept across his face. "You remember that song you used to love for me to sing to you when you were little? You always asked for it on the nights it was my turn to put you down instead of your mom." John leaned close to Dean's head as he sat in a chair. He stroked Dean's forehead in a regular pattern. "You loved that song," he said with a smile. He leaned closer to his son's ear, so that father and son had as much privacy as a busy ICU would allow them. John began to hum and then he started to sing softly to Dean.

"_Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies above, Don't fence me in,"_ he continued to stroke Dean's forehead as he sang. His eyes misting with unshed tears. "_Let me ride through the wide open country that I love, don't fence me in,"_ John choked back a quiet sob as he looked down on his child … swollen from steroids and pale except for the flushed cheeks reminding him that his son was battling an infection. The breathing tube rose up from Dean's mouth and the rhythmic click and whoosh sounded in the background reminding John that a machine was helping his boy breathe and it made him ache with the reality that his child actually needed help to breathe. "I'm here Dean," he spoke softly. He cleared his throat and started singing softly again as he leaned in close once again and stroked his son's hair.

"_Let me be myself in the evenin' breeze, and listen to the murmur of the cottonwood trees, send me off forever, but I ask you please, don't fence me in …"_ Silent tears cascaded down his cheeks as his strength began to weaken and the tears fell freely. He fought to finish Dean's favorite part of the song, so he skipped ahead. "_I want to ride to the ridge where the west commences and gaze at the moon til I lose my senses, and I can't look at hobbles and I can't stand fences," _his voice shook. "_Don't fence me in … No …"_ John leaned forward and kissed Dean's temple as his mouth hovered near his child's ear. He took a shaky breath and said the final line, "_Poppa, don't fence me in …"_ his voice cracked inside his throat and his face crumbled as it fell forward into his hands and he cried.

**Two Hours Later, ICU**

John woke with a start. He hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep. "Mr. Winchester," Jan spoke softly. "I didn't mean to startle you, but Dr. Sadikov and Dr. Broden are in Sam's room and would like to speak with you."

"Sam? He's out of surgery?"

"Yes, and he was just resettled a short while ago." John looked at Dean and touched his son's head gently before walking across the unit floor to Sam's room.

The doctor's looked up from charts and machines as John walked into his son's room. "My God," he breathed as he took in Sam's appearance. He was stark white almost, bloodless. His chest was exposed and the blanket and sheet were folded down at his waist. John could see gauze and surgical coverings on Sam's abdomen, wires running from his chest to the heart monitor. There were small coverings near his neck, as well.

"I know he looks like hell," Dr. Sadikov relented. "The coverings near his neck will be removed in the morning. They are from the bypass procedure."

"How is my son?" John asked with a voice far stronger than he felt.

"I was able to get the bleeders under control and the clotting factor started to work. We had a little trouble getting him off bypass, but he rallied," Dr. Broden answered.

"Trouble?" John studied the physician's face.

"Well, Sam is incredibly weak and his heart took a few minutes to respond and begin spontaneous profusion." John looked up at his child's heart monitor and saw that his heart rate was 58. Not great but considering what his child had been through at least it was beating.

"He's okay now? The bleeding is stopped?"

"The bleeding is stopped and we were able to transfuse him. The coma remains very deep. He took six units of blood and we'll watch his counts. I may have them hang a bag of platelets, but I'll play it by ear. I've stopped the anti-coagulants he was on."

"You mean the heparin?" John clarified.

"Yes." Dr. Broden answered.

"John, Sam is holding on," Dr. Sadikov assured. "He's fighting very hard." John nodded. The doctors talked to John about a few other details, but all he wanted was to sit with his son and touch him to assure himself that his baby son was still among the living, although judging by his appearance that could be debatable. John was finally alone with Sam and he held his limp hand in his own. He chaffed the cold hand between both of his own trying to infuse his son with warmth.

"Hey, Sammy," John's voice was soft and hesitant. "The doc says you're fighting. I'm proud of you kiddo. I know you have to be tired, but just hold on, okay?" He stared at his child and found it hard to believe that only two days ago the transplant surgery had happened … it felt like an eternity to John Winchester.

**Four Days Later, ICU**

"What is this procedure again?" John was bone tired and stressed to his breaking point. He stared at a pile of daunting consent forms.

"It's called ECMO, John," Dr. Sadikov began. "Here I'll let Dr. Castle who is our ECMO specialist fill you in on the details once again.

"Mr. Winchester, Dean's pneumonia is clearing up, but as we discussed earlier his lungs are over taxed and his oxygenation has been becoming poorer despite the increase in vent settings and he is receiving 100 percent oxygen. Basically, Dean's lungs are heading for failure and they need a rest, and ECMO will provide that break." John sat and listened.

"ECMO stands for extracorporeal membrane oxygenation. It's similar to a heart-lung bypass machine … ECMO is literally a temporary artificial lung and heart for your son, however, his heart doesn't need support, so we'll only be utilizing the ECMO to take the place of Dean's lungs. I will … provided you give consent start Dean on the type of ECMO called VV or veno venous … where a single catheter is placed in a vein in his neck and this will provide support for his lungs. I'll be using his jugular vein. It will oxygenate the blood for him and return it to his body, so his lungs will get a break. His vent will be dialed back a great deal, as the ECMO is taking over for his lungs."

"And, he needs this?" John hated putting Dean through another procedure.

"Mr. Winchester, Dean's lungs will fail and it's my belief that ECMO is what he needs right now."

"John, Dr. Castle's right," Dr. Sadiokov responded. "His oxygen levels are decreasing every hour and his heart is working overtime to compensate for the strain. If we don't act now … Dean's lungs will fail and he'll go into cardiac arrest … there won't be anything we can do if his lungs won't work."

"How long will he have to be on it?"

"7 to 10 days most likely, but depending on his response to ECMO and his physical condition it could be needed a bit longer." Dr. Castle answered.

"Does he need to go back into surgery?"

"No, we administer a small anesthetic and this procedure can be done in his room."

"What are the risks?"

"We will have to give Dean heparin to thin his blood, so that it can go through the ECMO machine easily without clotting and there is a chance that it could lead to bleeding problems, there have been some neurological, such as bleeding in the brain, but I assure you Mr. Winchester ECMO is used as a last resort and it is a procedure where the potential benefit outweighs the risks."

"But, heparin is what put my other son back in the OR for hemorrhaging," John's eyes were hard.

"Sir, I understand your hesitation, but in my three years of being strictly involved with ECMO I haven't run across a massive bleed in an adult. I have seen a few brain bleeds, but even then mostly I have seen them in babies that have been on ECMO. Dean needs this procedure … it's his best chance at survival right now." Dr. Castle spoke with confidence.

"How soon before you do this?"

"I'd like to get him on ECMO within the next hour or two. I'll have the room closed off to keep the field sterile and myself and a specialized ECMO nurse will complete the procedure and once it is complete you'll be allowed in and can sit with him. He'll be constantly monitored by an ECMO profusionist who will be in his room most of the time monitoring the equipment and your son. There will be a shift change, but he will always be monitored while on the ECMO. I will see him more than once a day and aside from the profusionist he'll also have an ECMO nurse that will take over his primary care while on ECMO."

John nodded. His hand slid over to the paperwork and he scribbled his name across multiple forms giving permission to have Dean put on ECMO. The doctor gave John a detailed brochure on ECMO with diagrams to read and keep. "If you have any questions or concerns at any time Mr. Winchester, please don't hesitate to ask or have me paged if I'm not already on the floor."

"Thank you."

**Five Days Later, ICU**

John walked into the ICU from a small family sleep room they had given to him. The doctors had forced John to take breaks and rest. The small private room was often offered to a family that had a critically ill family member that would require a lengthy stay. It had a large couch with a pull out bed, and reclining chair, TV, phone, and a small bathroom. The staff had felt John needed the room and it was just outside the ICU, so he was given use until it wasn't needed anymore. He had fought them on it because he didn't like not being near his boys, but he had also looked in the mirror and realized if he didn't take a little time for himself he wasn't going to be any good to his boys.

John looked at Dean's door and saw the sign, _Sterile Procedure in Progress Do Not Enter_; it wasn't something he was unfamiliar with. He knew that meant the doctor was in there examining Dean and doing something with the ECMO. Dean had responded well to the ECMO, although Dr. Castle had told him just the other day that he'd like to keep Dean on the ECMO another 3 to 4 days before he tried clamping Dean off for a few hours to see how he did. John had read the brochures and asked the questions, he knew the term clamping off meant it was just a trial period to see how his son's lungs were responding. He knew if things looked positive in a few days and the clamp off had positive results that they would see about removing the tube from his son's neck.

He walked toward Sam's room. Things had become more complicated for his youngest. Two days ago Sam's oxygen levels suddenly began plunging and the doctors had found that Sam's lungs were collecting fluid which was hindering his oxygen uptake. So, they had to insert two chest tubes into Sam. John sat down next to his baby boy and looked him over. He looked horrible. He was so pale that he appeared translucent. His chest was exposed as it had been for days now. He did notice that the surgical dressing had been downsized on his abdomen. He observed the chest tubes that had each been sutured into place on each side of Sam. He looked at their output and frowned. He was hoping to see that the fluid buildup was stopping, but he could see that each tube was still putting out fluid, although it wasn't as heavy as before. He had long ago had to adjust to the tubes snaking into his son … one was his ET tube that jutted from his son's mouth that was hooked to the ventilator and the other was his nasogastric tube that disappeared into his son's nose and went into his stomach. The nurse had been providing liquid feeds to Sam via the tube, but John had asked to help and now he often fed Sam through the tube. Dean had one, as well, and he had taken to feeding his oldest, too.

"Hey Sammy," John spoke softly. "How ya doin' today kiddo, huh?" he had resorted to talking to Sam as if he were awake and he was just making small talk, but more times than not he found himself apologizing for not giving him and his big brother a better childhood. "I'm thinkin' it's time you open those puppy eyes of yours," he suggested lightly. "So what do you say?" He squeezed his son's hand. John wasn't expecting a response, but he hoped for one anyway.

"Mr. Winchester?" John looked up and saw Dr. Castle.

"Is Dean okay?"

"Yes, he's fine. The ECMO has improved his oxygen levels and it's clear we're headed in the right direction. There has been no evidence of any bleeds or neurological dysfunction. He's tolerating the treatment quite well." John offered a small smile. It was actually some good news for a change. "You can see him now if you like." John nodded.

"Thanks."

**Two Days Later, ICU**

John stood at Sam's door as he watched the doctor inflate the cuff pants they had put on his son and hooked to a machine. The doctor had explained that the pants would inflate and deflate rapidly for a period of thirty minutes each hour. "John," Dr. Sadikov started as he finished hooking Sam up and giving his care nurse the parameters of the machine. "This will help to stimulate the circulation in Sam's legs to prevent any clots from developing due to his lack of movement; also this will help to increase blood flow to his heart."

"Yeah," John was tired and he'd already read the material on the treatment. "How long you going to do this to my son?"

"Thirty minutes every hour they will start the machine and the pants will do their thing automatically. It's going to be a standing treatment for a few days. The pants Velcro open and closed quickly, so between treatment times we'll open them, so Sam's skin gets some air." John only nodded.

**Five Days Later, ICU**

Dean had been on the ECMO machine for twelve days now and John sat at his side. He still felt nauseated at the site of the tube in his son's neck. Dean had been clamped off for five hours now and Dr. Castle had looked positive.

"Things are looking great Mr. Winchester. In fact, I'd like to see about trying Dean on an idling flow for the remainder of the day and if his lungs are functioning at parameters they should be then I'd like to see about decannulating him tomorrow." John smiled.

"Really?" It felt foreign to him that his life had become a slew of medical terms he had learned. _Decannulate, Idling Flow, arterial blood gas test, clamped off, nasogastric tube_ the list was endless but he knew each one of them now, and he knew that decannulate meant the doctor would remove the tube from Dean's neck and his son would be off of ECMO.

"Yes, really," Dr. Castle assured. "He's doing fantastic. I'm thrilled with the ECMO result we achieved with Dean." The doctor excused himself and John sat by his firstborn. It was hard to believe that sixteen days had past since the transplant surgery.

**Seven Days Later, ICU**

John watched Sam and worried at his red cheeks and pasty complexion. They knew Sam had contracted an infection, but the extent of the infection or what kind hadn't been determined yet and he waited to hear the blood test results. Sam's condition had been on a steady decline and he wasn't missing the concerned looks from his son's care staff including Dr. Sadikov. He looked at Sam's surgical site. It had closed and the sutures were dissolving. The bulky bandage had been removed. John looked at the lengthy scar wanted so desperately to make everything better for both of his boys. Sam's chest tubes had come out a few days ago and he was thankful for that small bit of good news. Although, the healing sutures on his son's sides were a reminder of the previous chest tubes. Dean was off ECMO and had begun triggering the vent just two days after coming off ECMO. They were weaning him off the ventilator slowly. He was improving and the swelling from the steroids had gone down a great deal. John could recognize his son's handsome features now. Dean had begun making purposeful movements four days ago and the staff felt confident he'd wake from his coma soon.

"John," Dr. Sadikov walked in with Sam's chart and papers.

"How is he? How's Sam?" John wasn't comforted by the doctor's expression.

"The infection is in his blood, John."

"You mean septicemia?" The doctor looked taken aback by John for a moment. "I've been reading pamphlets," he added. "You're talking blood poisoning, right?"

"Yes, and no," the doctor added. "Usually, septicemia is bacterial based problem, but it appears that Sam has developed a staph infection and it's systemic."

"But, you can put him on antibiotics now … you know what it is you're dealing with, so you can take care of it," John looked at the man with hopeful eyes.

"John, we'll start Sam on a strong course of antibiotics, but the comprehensive blood tests have given me some worrisome results."

"Like what?"

"There is evidence that the staph is attacking some of Sam's organs, there are signs that his heart and kidneys are getting hit and his liver enzymes taken on the remaining lobe are showing slight compromise due to the infection. He's been through so much and his body simply isn't equipped to fight this infection."

"What are you saying?" John looked at his son with anguished eyes. The doctor took a breath.

"John, it may be time to step back and…"

"And, what?" John hissed under his breath as he saw the DNR papers attached to Sam's chart. "What? Sign those papers? Stop treatment and let him die?" His rage was barely contained.

"It would be letting him go John. Neurology believes that despite the EEG results showing that brain activity remains albeit it fits with the activity consistent with a deep coma, they believe that Sam is in an irreversible coma."

"I don't give a damn what they say … my boy is fighting with all he's worth, and you're going to damn well help him fight." The doctor nodded. "And, this hospital can take those DNR papers and shove them up their ass." The doctor blinked in surprise, but he understood the desperate feelings John must be having.

"We'll proceed with the IV antibiotics. We'll be aggressive in his care," he assured. John offered a curt nod.

**Later that Evening, ICU**

Sam was having an exam by a doctor that specialized in hospital acquired staph infections of patients and he'd been asked to leave, so he sat with Dean. "Hey, Sport, you're lookin' good," he offered. "You'll be beating the ladies off with a stick pretty soon." John held Dean's hand and nearly jumped out of his seat when his son's fingers curled around his own. "Dean? Son, can you hear me?" John stood up and leaned over his son touching his forehead and then he watched Dean's eyes move beneath his eyelids. "That's it Dean," John encouraged. "Come on son, open your eyes … you can do it." John's heart was pounding in his chest. He continued his gentle urgings. Dean's brow creased and it was then that John knew his son was on the edge of consciousness. "That's it kiddo, come on…"

It was as if a weight had been lifted as he watched Dean's eyes flutter rapidly and finally open. Dean's tired eyes blinked sluggishly as sleep pulled at him once again wanting to take him back under into sleep. "No, Dean, open your eyes, focus on me kiddo." Dean's eyes opened slowly and miraculously settled on his father's face. John could see Dean focusing and when he saw the recognition in his son's eyes he smiled. "Welcome back son," his voice was warm and thick with emotion. As Dean came fully into consciousness he became acutely aware of the tube down his throat and he reacted with violent gagging. John called for help and was ushered out while Dean was tended to by the staff. He stood outside with his gaze alternating between each of his son's room. Sam's door was still closed and now he felt desperate to be with one of his children. Dean's door opened a few minutes later.

"Well?" John's face was hopeful. "How's my son?"

"I extubated Dean from the breathing tube and he's actually oxygenating quite well and I have him on regular room air." Dr. Sadikov responded.

"No oxygen?"

"No oxygen," the doctor confirmed. He lowered his voice, "I think it's best he doesn't know about his brother for a while. His recovery could be drastically compromised. He's still critical John, but he is out of the coma and getting stronger."

"Is he awake?"

"In and out," the doctor answered. "He'll have questions once he becomes more coherent. Be honest, but leave out the fact the transplant came from his brother until I feel he's strong enough to hear, okay?" John nodded. The doctor and John talked for a few more minutes and then John was aloud in to see his son. He sat quietly down in the chair beside his bed. He put a hand on his son's arm and smiled. Dean stirred and opened his eyes. John made eye contact with him and smiled.

"Hey son," he replied softly. Dean began move his mouth, "No, Dean, don't try to talk now, okay. I'm here. Get some rest." Dean offered a small smile … it was a dim comparison to his usual 1,000 watt Dean Winchester smile, but it filled John with joy nonetheless. John took Dean's hand in his own and squeezed gently. "Rest, Dean, you're okay," he assured. Dean wrapped his fingers weakly around his father's as his eyes drifted closed and he succumbed to sleep.

**Twenty-Minutes Later, ICU**

"Mr. Winchester?" Dr. Cruz, the Staph infection specialist spoke softly at the doorway to Dean's room. "I hate to disturb you, but I'd like to talk to you outside." John nodded and closed Dean's door behind him as he left.

"My son, how is Sam?"

"The IV antibiotics need a chance to work and in the interim we are using various different drugs to help support his body. Sam's infection is systemic as you already know and staph doesn't discriminate on where it wants to attack, so we are being vigilant." John could hear the rhythmic inflate and deflate of the cuff pants on his son.

"You're using the pants again?"

"Yes, Sam's cardiac output has decreased and I consulted with a cardiologist on staff that recommended we reinstitute the pants in an effort to increase blood flow back toward the heart in conjunction with a couple IV meds to help his heart."

"What's wrong with my son's heart?"

"Well, as you were told there is evidence that the infection has attacked his heart among other organs and we are trying to prevent any heart tissue death."

"You said," John rubbed a hand over his eyes. He felt dizzy and fought to focus on the doctor who kept fuzzing in and out. He hadn't really been sleeping or eating that much the last few days since Sam's condition worsened and he wanted to be near both his boys and not in that little room the hospital had provided him. "His heart output is decreased … what does that mean?" The doctor eyed John and could see there was a problem.

"Mr. Winchester," he reached a hand out. "Maybe, you should sit down before you fall down. When was the last time you slept or ate?"

"I'm fine," he groused. "I asked about my son's heart output." The doctor relented, but kept a watchful eye on his patient's father.

"Sam's heart isn't pushing out blood as efficiently as it should. His heart muscle is tiring from the strain of trying to profuse his body and circulate blood. The pants should help force blood back toward his heart and hopefully improve its output and help with some of the heart strain he's under due to the infection."

"Can he go on ECMO? The kind for his heart and lungs? It helped my other son when he just needed help with his lungs. Maybe it will give him time to get stronger," John offered as the room seemed to tilt on its axis and he shook his head slightly trying to clear the thick fog settling.

"If it weren't for the staph infection ECMO could have been an option, but I'm sorry because of the staph infection in his blood he isn't a viable candidate."

"4B is having a run of PVC's," a telemetry nurse called out from her station of ICU monitors as a code team started to roll a crash cart toward the room, Sam's room. Dr. Sadikov was already on the move and spared a glance at Dr. Cruz and John.

"My boy…" John took an unstable step toward Sam's room. "Sammy…" even in his current overly exhausted physical state and foggy brain he knew PVC's meant Sam was having a kind of heart arrhythmia, but his heart was still beating. He wished he hadn't learned all the different medical terms he had, but with two children both fighting for life he had to know them.

"Code Blue, 4B, Code Blue," the telemetry nurse called out which sent a few other people into action and they ran for Sam's room. John knew in that moment his young son's heart was no longer beating. He felt his heart race, its pounding pulsing in his ears, and just as quickly his world grayed around the edges and was quickly swallowed by darkness. He vaguely recalled hearing someone nearby speaking urgently at him and then all encompassing darkness consumed him.

**To Be Continued**

**I haven't started chapter 4 yet, but I will soon. I will try to post again next weekend or sooner if time permits. **

**I hope you enjoyed chapter 3. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it!!!**


	4. Ubi Amor Ibi Fides

Disclaimer: refer to chapter 1

**NOTE TO READERS: **Thanks for the comments and reviews on previous chapters. This chapter will utilize time leaps. There will be one final chapter after this one. This update is around 18 pages long. I hope you enjoy it.

**Side Note: **the translation of the chapter title is: where there is love, there is faith

**Chapter Four**

**Ubi Amor Ibi Fides**

By Dawn Nyberg

"…_One short sleep past, we wake eternally, and death shall be no more, Death thou shalt die…"_ excerpt from John Donne, _Holy Sonnets_

**Two Weeks Later, ICU**

John still felt mildly embarrassed that he'd passed out from exhaustion over two weeks ago, but he felt fine now and just wanted to focus on his boys. Dr. Sadikov had Sam moved to the last room on the ICU unit, so that Dean couldn't see him when he did his small ICU walks they had started him on a couple days ago. He walked into Dean's room after talking to the doctor privately about Sam. His youngest had made it through the systemic infection and all the test were pointing toward positive directions, he had physically stabilized, but the coma remained.

John had been infinitely grateful that Dean had slept through the commotion of that horrible night he passed out and Sammy had had another crisis. He had startled awake only to be assured both his boys were alive. He was thankful that Dean had turned a corner and was looking like the child he was used to seeing before the hepatitis had made him so ill.

"Hey Sport, you're lookin' good kiddo," John took a seat at his son's side.

"Hey Dad, I'm goin' stir crazy in here," John was still amazed at how good his son looked. The doctor's had said transplant patients could and often did rebound quickly. His skin tone was healthy and there wasn't any remaining jaundice.

It was hard to wrap his mind around the fact that it wasn't that long ago that his son looked near death … _hell, it wasn't long ago that he was dying from a failing liver_. He thought silently.

"You think the doc would let me walk outside the ICU? I'm tired of walking around this place," Dean complained.

"Hey be glad you can walk Dean. Take your time and the doc will tell us when you can move outside the unit, so be patient. I know you want out of the hospital, I mean after all, you were admitted in July and it's August now. Please, don't push yourself Dean," John urged with a serious face. "You could have died."

"Yeah," Dean's tone sounded a bit down trodden.

"What's up kiddo?" John asked.

"It's just the transplant and all Dad," Dean started and stopped.

"What about it son? You're not in any pain are you?" John felt a tinge of worry.

"Nah, I'm good, the scar will only add to my awesome chick appeal," he added with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. John allowed a slightly bemused smile to creep across his face.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's just …" Dean looked at his father for a long moment and took a breath and pressed forward. "Do you know anything about the donor? I mean someone died so I could live." John saw the raw emotion in his son's eyes. He knew it was time to tell him about Sam. The doctor had given the approval that Dean was past the medical crisis and was mobile again and stable. He had said he was physically able to tolerate the news, but he wasn't guaranteeing his emotional state and left that to John's discretion to tell Dean.

"Dean," John began tentatively. "You were so ill and then you had the seizure … I knew you were running out of time. You were in a coma and on life support, I thought I was gonna lose you."

"I know Dad, but I'm okay. I'm going to be fine. The doc says the liver is working great. I'll take my meds and I'll be just fine," Dean tried to take away the constant look of worry and stress his father had on his face. He saw it even when John was smiling or laughing. It was as if something hidden beneath the surface was keeping his father on high alert. "Dad, what is it?"

"I …" John's mouth went dry. "Dean, your donor … I need to tell you …"

"I want to know whatever you know, Dad. Was it a guy a girl? How old were they? How'd they die?" Dean hoped his father knew something. He had read the UNOS brochures in July and had read that donor information was kept private, but sometimes limited info was available. John knew there was no easy way to say this, so he just said it.

"It was Sammy," John said bluntly. The room was silent as Dean processed. John saw the red creep into Dean's cheeks first and knew the explosion was imminent. Dean's eyes blazed.

"What in the hell are you talking about? It was Sam! I told you not to call him! I didn't want him cut!"

"Dean, please…"

"Go to hell Dad," Dean spat. "I didn't want Sammy put through this crap. Dammit, you should have waited for a donor!"

"There wasn't time Dean," John lamented. "Sammy was your only chance."

"Then you should have let me die," Dean hissed. "I told you no! You had no right!" Dean barked. "So, where is he? I'm going to kick his ass into next year for doing this. He's been hiding his ass, huh?" Dean looked past his father wandering if his little brother had been looming in the corners all this time, possibly only checking on him while he slept. "Where is he?" Dean's eyes were on fire as he settled his hard gaze back on his father and that's when he saw that pain and worry again … now it made sense. "Dad?" his voice dropped and his tone was unsure. "Dad, where's Sammy?"

"He's here Dean," John's eyes were anguished.

"Here where?" Dean's tone dripped with barely controlled rage tempered with fear.

"The ICU … his room is down the hall," John forced out.

"But … I read the crap they were making me read about live donation and the donors. It said usual stay was 10 days … my transplant was like twenty-five days ago, almost a month, why's he …" his eyes were no longer angry just afraid.

"There've been complications." John began. "He had a problem in surgery and since then he's had an infection which is cleared up now, but it almost killed him. There was some internal bleeding, but they went back in a stopped it. He was collecting fluid on his lungs so they put in chest tubes, but they were able to take them out. He looks okay now. Pale, really pale, but he's been …" John stopped abruptly and took a breath. He couldn't believe the words had all rushed out like they did.

"He's been what?" Dean begged. The bile was already in his throat having heard the list of complications his little brother had been going through. "He's been what?" Dean demanded once again. John looked agonized.

"In a coma. He never woke up from surgery Dean. There was a clot that went to his heart in surgery and a piece went to his brain. They got it out with a cath procedure, but they think … they think Sammy's never gonna wake up."

"Bullshit!" he spat. "He's not brain dead?" The statement was both a question and a declaration. John shook his head. "Screw this," Dean flung the sheet and blanket covering his legs aside. "Where is he? I want to see him."

"Dean take it easy," John went to grab his son's elbow in support. Dean jerked away. John frowned and reached for his son again and didn't allow himself t be shaken off. "Listen to me Dean," his voice boomed. "You can be pissed at me … that's fine, but I'll be damned I let you go off half cocked and hurt yourself … put your transplant at risk. So, you'll take my help or your ass will sit here … am I clear?" Dean fumed and raged inside, but his father was right about one thing, he wouldn't risk the gift his little brother had paid such a high price to give to him.

"Fine," he ground out. "I want to see him, now." John nodded and helped his son with the IV pole and offered a supportive arm for Dean to lean into.

"Alright, come on, it's time for the doctor to stop in anyway, you can ask whatever you need or what to." Dean offered a curt nod. Once Sammy was okay, he thought to himself he was going to fully explode, but not until Sammy was back.

**Two Hours Later, ICU**

Dean sat alone with Sam having made his father leave. Dr. Sadikov had given Dean the rundown of Sam's physical state and everything that has happened before he stepped out with his father. He could hear the low spoken tones of his father and the doctor outside his little brother's room, but his mind was focused on his sibling. He reached up and took Sam's hand. He grimaced at some of the yellowing bruises that were healing which he recognized as needle marks from shots or former IV's. "Dammit, Sammy," he spoke softly as he held his brother's hand. "What in the hell were you thinking?" He paused. "This is what I didn't want Sammy," Dean lamented. "My gut was saying I had to protect you, look out for you. You should be in California goin' to school." He stared at his pale sibling and studied the breathing tube rising from his mouth and the NG tube going into his nose. "I'm just so damn pissed," Dean spoke softly. "I'm never gonna forgive Dad for this," he stroked his brother's hand. "And, little brother you're going to be due for an ass kicking from big brother when you open those eyes of yours," Dean's voice was soft and despite hisanger his tone held no harshness when he looked at his sibling and continued to hold Sam's hand.

"Dean," John's voice spoke softly from the doorway.

"Get out," Dean ground out under his breath. "You get the hell away from Sammy and me … this is your fault," he hissed as he turned and looked at his father and saw Dr. Sadikov standing next to him.

"Dean, the doctor wanted to talk to us about Sammy." Dean spared a glance at his brother and smiled softly.

"I'll be back Sammy … hold the fort down," he spoke light heartily to his little brother. John moved to help him stand and move the IV pole. Dean wanted to refuse the help, but he knew he needed it and he wouldn't jeopardize hurting himself and being kept from Sam or hurting the progress of his transplant. "What is it?"

"Dean," the doctor began. "I wanted to discuss a couple things with you. I was talking to your father that I think within a couple days or so provided Sam's vitals stay as stable as they have been I'm recommending he be moved to our skilled long term care wing."

"Getting out of the ICU is a good thing though, right? What's to talk about?" Dean's patience was on edge.

"Yes, and no," the doctor offered. "It depends on how you look at it. It is good that Sam is stable enough not to require the ICU any longer, but it's important that you understand that Sam's placement in our skilled long term care wing is primarily for coma patients deemed persistent coma or persistent vegetative. Sam's coma is currently classified as persistent, and we feel he will most likely never wake up."

"That's crap," Dean barked quietly. "I see that EEG thing you got hooked to him and he's in there still. You gotta give him time. Look, I know what you said earlier about the clot, but you also said that there wasn't any major damage. You just gotta give Sammy time to find his way back. I'm not letting you write him off."

"Anything is possible," the doctor relented. "But, you should be realistic in your expectations of his coma." Dean just stared at the man and for a moment his mind was paralyzed with the possibility that what the man was saying could be true. He cast a glance into his brother's room and felt sick to his stomach that this could be the rest of his little brother's life … machines and tubes keeping him alive … this was so screwed up.

"You said you wanted to discuss a couple things," Dean needed to talk about something other than long term care. The doctor nodded.

"I have consulted with my other colleagues in regard to Sam's care and we think it's in his best interest to establish a long term airway at this point for him." Dean's brow furrowed.

"What are you talking about? He's got a breathing tube already."

"True, but we don't like to keep an ET tube in for lengthy stretches of time and it's been a little over three weeks already and when long term airway maintenance is expected the typical procedure is to give Sam a surgical airway while keeping him on the ventilator…" Dean looked confused. The doctor elaborated with a term he thought Dean would understand. "It's prudent he's given a tracheotomy at this point before going to the skilled care wing."

"No," Dean barked. "No way in hell you're cuttin' his neck. It's not happening."

"Dean," John's voice was softy. Dean's eyes were blazing.

"No, you want to move him because he's stable fine, but you give him a little more time, okay," his eyes were angry and begging all at once. "Please…"

"Dr. Sadikov, could you give Sam more time? Is it possible without putting his health at risk?" John asked trying to find a common ground that Dean and the doctor could both accept. It wasn't as if he was eager to see Sam with a tracheotomy either, it made everything seem hopeless and permanent.

"Fine," the doctor relented. "But, for Sam's health I'm not willing to go beyond the end of the fourth week. If his coma hasn't become lighter or there is no major improvement the tracheotomy will be done." Dean and John both nodded.

"I want to be with my brother," Dean turned to go.

"Dean," Dr. Sadikov spoke up. "I'm still your physician and I know you want to spend time with him, but you need to be back in bed and rest." He could see the resistance about to happen and came up with a quick solution. "Look, how about I have Sam moved back to his old room. It's right across the hall from you and you can even see into his room from your bed. How's that sound?" Dean offered a curt nod.

"I told him I'd be back," Dean spoke firmly. "I just want to say goodnight." John reached out to help Dean walk and roll the IV pole. Dean allowed him. "I'll just be a minute." John nodded.

"I'll be just outside."

"Whatever," Dean grumbled. John left the room knowing he had a lot of damage control to do with Dean … hell Sam too, only if he's given the chance to make amends. Dean sat in the chair next to Sam's bed. "Hey Sammy, the doc is gonna move you back to your old room, okay? You'll just be across the hall from me." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Listen to me Sammy, you gotta come back kiddo. We got a week and a couple days before the doc slits your throat man … please, Sammy, come on." He could hear Dr. Sadikov's lab coat rustling outside the door. "Look Sammy, the doc's making me go back to my room, but I'll talk to you soon, I promise."

**Three Days Later, ICU**

Dean sat beside Sam. He was tired and his father was always nearby making sure he wasn't over doing anything, but keeping his distance at the same time in order to keep the peace. John stayed with Sam during the night while Dean slept in his own room. The doctor had said he was keeping Sam in the ICU another day and then would transfer him to the skilled care wing. "Come on Sammy," he urged. "We got five more days until the doc says he's gonna give you that damn tracheotomy." Dean felt frustrated and scared all at the same time. "Sam? You have to come back," he spoke with a soft, yet commanding tone. His eyes glanced at the bank of monitors as he finished the sentence and his eyes caught something. Sam's EEG spiked and his heart rate had picked up, but in the silence of the room he noted that the monitors returned to the status quo. Dean leaned forward and looked at his brother. There was no change that he could tell.

An idea crossed his mind and he looked at the monitors and said his sibling's name. "Sammy?" There it was a spike in the EEG and the heart monitor showed an increase in heart rate during the moment he said his little brother's name. The systems returned once again to their regular status. Dean dared to smile slightly. "Sammy, you hearin' me kiddo?" and the monitors spiked again. Dean was pushing the call button the next second. "That's my boy," Dean said with more pride and love than he thought he could ever feel.

**One Day Later, ICU, Late Evening**

Dean slept in his bed and John stood quietly at the door. He needed to assure himself that Dean was resting. The doctor had said he was prepared to move Dean to the observation unit provided his latest liver enzyme blood test came back as glowing as the others and Dr. Jessup Dean's transplant doctor had given him the thumbs up. John knew Dean was still frustrated with his limited physical abilities for the moment, but he knew he'd be back to his usual level in good time. John knew he should go back to Sam's room, after all, it was the one thing he and Dean would talk about … Sammy. Dean still wouldn't converse with John beyond the topic of Sam's care or improvements and when Dean had asked his father to sit with Sam at night while when he couldn't John had found some hope in that request from his oldest.

"Mr. Winchester," a soft voice spoke from behind him. He turned.

"Yes?"

"Sam," she begun and John's eyes were instantly panicked, as it had become a knee-jerk reaction to hear his youngest son's name and then bad news right after. "No," she assured with a smile knowing the worried parent look on his face. "He's making more purposeful movements in the last few minutes … more so than yesterday. His eyes are starting to flutter a little; I thought you'd like to sit with him in case he wakes for a short bit.

**Ten Minutes Later, Sam's Room**

"Now, don't expect him to be bright eyed and bushy tailed Mr. Winchester," April, Sam's night nurse spoke softly as she adjusted an IV and hung a new fluid bag. "His waking up could be a slow process." John nodded. "I'll leave you alone. I'll be back in a while to look in on him … buzz if you need anything.

"Thanks April."

"Not a problem."

John reached up and took Sam's hand. "Hey kiddo, it's your Dad," John spoke softly. "Sam?" He leaned forward stroking his son's forehead. "Sammy, open your eyes," he urged. "Come on … Dean's been waiting, me too."

**One Hour Later, ICU**

John was pulled from his sleep violently by a harsh gasping and choking noise. He hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. He looked up at his son where the source of gagging was coming from and before he could react April and a doctor were on their way in and John stepped to the background. He could see Sam's eyes were open and pure panic in them that also held a shell shocked look to them. His gagging was violent, but his movements to fight the breathing tube were weak and uncoordinated.

"Sam," April urged. "Calm down. It's your breathing tube. Just breathe normally," she urged.

"What's his tidal volumes look like?" the doctor asked.

"Good," she said glancing quickly as the respirator readout. "Sam, shh…" she urged. He was still rebelling against the tube. John couldn't stay away any longer and he stepped forward.

"Sammy?" John spoke in a gentle voice. "It's okay. You're okay." Sam stilled and his confused eyes sought out the face connected to the voice he knew belonged to his father. John stood at the foot of the bed and smiled reassuringly at his youngest child. He reached out and placed a hand on top of his son's blanket giving a reassuring squeeze of his foot. "Sammy, listen to the doctor, okay. Stop fighting the tube. I'm here, you're okay."

"Sam, listen take a deep breath in, okay?" The doctor looked at Sam's face. "Do you understand me?" Sam nodded. "Good." The doctor prepared to remove the breathing tube. "Now, blow out," he said and in one fluid movement he extubated Sam.

Sam coughed at the action and April helped to suction his mouth and wipe the spit from his chin. "You're good, Sam. It's all out now. Good for you." She replied.

"Good boy Sammy," John said warmly.

"Dad?" the voice came out as a whisper and Sam flinched at the tenderness in his throat.

"Hey kiddo."

"Sam, open up," the doctor requested. "This is going to taste bad, but it'll numb your throat a little and will help with the pain. You'll be tender for a few days most likely from the breathing tube. I'll have some ice chips brought to your room and that should help, also you might want to keep talking to a minimum."

"Thanks," Sam whispered and glanced around the room with a confused look.

"Mr. Winchester, I need to examine him and then I'll let you visit, okay?"

"I'll be just outside Sammy," John smiled at his son.

"No, Dad …" Sam pushed weakly at the doctor's stethoscope on his chest. "Dean? Is he okay," John was mesmerized from the wonderful sound of his baby boy's voice and the fact he seemed coherent despite his confused look. It took him a moment to reply. "Dad?" He saw the fleeting fear cross his child's face.

"He's good Sammy, better than good," he assured. "Look, you settle down and let the doctor look you over and I'll go wake him up and give him the good news, okay?"

Sam nodded offering a small smile and John could see how weary his son was and that the bit of adrenalin he experienced upon waking was already dissipating.

**A Few Moments Later, Dean's Room**

John stood at his son's bedside and was hated waking him, but Dean needed to know. John reached down and rested his hand on his son's shoulder and spoke softly. "Dean? Son?" Dean moved slightly in sleep and settled once again. This wasn't rare for Dean these days. He had become a heavy sleeper when he slept since his illness and subsequent transplant. "Dean," John patted his son's shoulder gently. "Wake up, son."

"Dad?" Dean's voice was soft as he blinked blearily up at his father. It was in the first few moments of waking that Dean always seemed to forget he was angry at his father and then he would remember. "What is it?" his tone shifted as his mind cleared from sleep.

"Sammy…" John didn't get out anymore before Dean's eyes were wide and he was looking across the ICU unit at his brother's door and saw that it was closed and the blinds closed.

"What is it?" he barked. "What happened to Sammy?"

"Calm down Dean…"

"Don't tell me to calm down," Dean hissed. "What's wrong? Why's the door closed?"

"He woke up," John replied hurriedly before his son could say another word or toss out another question. Dean settled immediately and looked at his father.

"Sammy's awake?" John nodded. "Is he … is he okay?" Dean had always kept hope that his little brother truly would be okay, but he knew the chances there could be some form of deficit was a real possibility despite what the CT's and MRI's were saying.

"He knew me and asked about you … asked if you were okay," John answered. "He sounded good … his throat is tender from the tube being removed, but he seemed okay. The doctor is examining him now."

"He's really okay?" John smiled knowing Dean was merely forcing himself to believe what he was hearing. "And, he asked about me?"

"Wanted to make sure you were okay, although I'm not sure exactly what he remembers last though, he looked tired and a little shell shocked, but I suspect waking up from an almost four week coma would do that to anyone." John hedged. Dean nodded in agreement.

"When can I see him?"

"As soon as the doctor finishes up with him," John offered. Dean leaned back against his pillow and closed his eyes letting out a long breath. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Dean answered and opened his eyes. John could see the mist of tears collecting in Dean's eyes as his son turned his head away from his father.

"It's okay, Dean," John spoke softly. "You've been so worried about Sammy, me too, and it's only natural," he encouraged. "The adrenalin is finally dropping after days and days of constantly being up. It's okay…" Dean pushed at his eyes with his hands and said nothing to his father. John remained in the room but moved toward the doorway to await the opening of Sam's room door.

**Ten Minutes Later**

John was still standing near Dean's door when Sam's door opened and Dr. Lock, the ICU physician on duty that night came out. The doctor made eye contact with John and walked over to him. He saw that Dean was awake and intently looking for answers on his sibling's status.

"How's Sam?" John asked before Dean could. The doctor smiled and stepped into Dean's room to convey the news to both family members.

"Well, considering everything he's doing quite well. There is some confusion, but it's to be expected after a lengthy period of unconsciousness such as Sam's coma. He remembers why he's here and about Dean's need for a transplant. I haven't told him how long he was unconscious only that he experienced some complications … I thought I'd leave that to your discretion."

"What about damage?" Dean pushed his voice into the conversation.

"His pupils are reactive and he can follow commands. The various neuro checks and physical exam and motor control test were all good. Tomorrow morning I'm sure Dr. Sadikov will send him down for a MRI and a few other neurology exams, too. He's groggy and I anticipate he'll be sleepy for the first couple days or so, and don't be surprised if he drops off during conversations … it's all normal. His body has been through quite a lot."

"I want to see him." Dean asserted.

"If you let your father help you into a wheelchair and roll over there," the doctor replied.

"I'm allowed to walk," Dean answered hotly.

"Yes, but I saw the remark on your evening care notes that your doctor left. You were on your feet a lot today and spent quite a few hours sitting with your brother. Dr. Sadikov wants you to rest, so if you want to see your brother you're going to have to get there by wheelchair and then by all mean sit in the chair. I'm merely following your doctor's orders. You wouldn't want a set back would you? You get twenty minutes and then back to bed. It's 4 AM and you need your rest."

"Fine, whatever," Dean grumbled under his breath. He shot a glare at both the doctor and his father.

**Sam's Room a Short While Later**

Dean sat and watched his brother sleep. He needed to know he was truly back but was hesitant to wake him. When his father had rolled him into the room Sam's head was lulled to the side on his pillow and he was sound asleep. It was a relief to see the breathing tube removed and the ventilator machine turned off and pushed against the wall. The NG tube remained in his brother's nose, but he hoped that it too would be removed very soon.

"Dean?" John whispered from his place against the wall in the corner.

"Why are you still here? I want to see Sammy alone." He kept his voice low.

"You can't stay mad at me forever Dean," John said under his breath as he pushed himself off the wall and stepped outside.

"Try me…" Dean hissed quietly without even looking at his father. He turned his eyes back to his sibling. He couldn't keep from touching him; the need for physical contact was too strong. He reached up and pushed at his brother's long bangs. "Man, Sammy," he spoke softly. "You really do have a friggin' mop on your head, you know that?" he smiled at the peaceful face. Sam stirred slightly and Dean waited for his eyes to open. "That's it kiddo." A huge smile broke across Dean's face as Sam's dark eyes opened and focused on him. "Hey sleepy head."

"Dean?" Sam's voice was a mere whisper.

"Yeah, it's me Sammy. I'm here. How ya doin?"

"Okay," he answered quietly. Sam noticed his father was standing outside the room but said nothing.

"Okay, huh? So, you wanna tell me what the hell you were thinkin'?" Sam offered a tired and small lopsided grin that caused a flare of warmth in Dean's chest.

"Had to do it," Sam scratched out the reply. Dean winced at the sound.

"Here," he said warmly as he picked up a plastic spoon a gathered some ice chips for his brother. "Try these Sammy … they'll be good for your throat." Sam allowed Dean to spoon the chips into his mouth. "Better?" Dean asked with a hopeful smile. Sam nodded.

"Thanks," he whispered. Sam studied Dean for a long moment. "You really okay?" he eyed the IV pole next to his brother and the discarded wheelchair next to him.

"Yeah, I'm good," Dean answered. "I did a lot walking and sitting today, so they made me ride over here on that piece of shit … not that I need it." Sam offered a thin smile. He could hear his big brother's usual bravado was returning.

"You look good," Sam commented. He was happy to see a healthy skin tone on his older brother. "When I last saw you …" his voice cut off as he remembered.

"Yeah," Dean's voice was soft.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"How long was I out? The doc didn't tell me … he just said I had some complications."

"Almost four weeks," Dean answered while keeping eye contact with his brother.

"Four?" Sam clarified with confused eyes.

"Yeah," Dean confirmed. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Honestly, I guess rolling into the OR and that's it until I woke and saw Dad." Sam saw his brother's face darken at the mention of their father. "Okay, what's up?" Sam forced a little more strength into his voice.

"What'd ya mean?"

"Look I know Dad and I have some issues, but you and him … I can see it in your face Dean. I know something is up. What is it?"

"Nothin' you need to think about. You should rest Sammy," Dean encouraged his sibling. He could see Sam was struggling to stay awake and also he didn't care to talk about their father.

"Dean…"

"Sleep Sammy." Dean's voice brooked no argument and Sam was too tired to fight it any longer and succumbed to the pull of sleep quickly even before he could protest his brother's command. Dean watched his brother drift off and smiled. "Good to have you back kiddo," he said quietly.

"You ready to go back to your room now?" John walked in and stood in the doorway. "The doc says time's up anyway." Dean shifted his eyes toward his father as he started to get up to sit in the wheelchair. John took a step forward to help his son and Dean glared at him. "Fine, do it yourself" John mumbled under his breath and watched his son get in the chair himself. John rolled Dean back across the unit and helped his son back into bed despite the tension and anger rolling off his child toward him.

**One Week Later, Observation Unit**

"Dean you can't stay mad at him," Sam spoke to his brother whom he now shared a room with. The doctor had upgraded both of them and had them moved to the Observation unit and they shared the same room.

"Wanna bet?" Dean's tone was dangerous. "Sammy, give it up, okay? You've been flappin' your jaws for a week now about this and I don't want to hear it anymore." Dean complained as he looked over at his sibling with an irritated expression.

"Dean… Dad did what any parent would. Anyway, he told me you didn't want it and it was always my decision." Dean let out an exasperated snort. "What?"

"Yeah, like it was really a decision … there wasn't a real choice Sammy, I mean come on. Yeah, you get here and decide not to donate … wasn't gonna happen, no more than I would have …" Dean's voice dropped off as he was unwilling to hang himself with the end of his statement.

"No more than you would have what?" Sam perked up knowing all to well what his brother was going to say. "You would have done it too Dean … if it had been me you would have done it even if I didn't want you to." He replied.

"Damn straight," Dean answered quickly.

"Why would you? We weren't exactly on speaking terms … I was at school. You're tellin' me that if a doctor called you and Dad up and said I was sick and needed a live donor transplant you would have donated … despite the crap and family drama?" Dean looked at his brother as if he'd lost his mind.

"Man, little brother, I'm thinkin' that head doc better look at that melon of yours again. I think maybe you did lose some brain cells in that coma after all. Sam even if you'd left and told me and Dad to go screw ourselves," he grinned. "Well, you sort of did say that to dad, but anyway … Sammy, no matter what I would have." Sam grinned at his ability to still lead his brother right where he wanted him. "What?"

"That's my entire point Dean."

"About?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"Okay, Woody," he started with a put upon sigh.

"Woody?"

"Yeah, your head," Sam took his knuckles of his right hand and mimicked knocking his own head. "Your head is dense Dean … like wood. About what? About how I donated, why I donated and why Dad called me. Geez, you think he was throwin' confetti as they rolled me away to the OR … he looked scared and you should have seen him with you. Damn, Dean, I've never seen Dad look that scared. You should cut him some slack. If he had listened to your stupid ass and not called you would have died and then where would Dad and me be, huh?"

Dean looked at his brother and was slowly seeing his brother's view. "I'll tell you where," Sam continued when Dean said nothing. "I would have shown up for your funeral. I would have watched you buried and then I would have never talked to Dad again … ever. I would have never forgiven him. Forgive him Dean," Sam's voice lowered and suddenly sounded young and Dean looked at him.

"When did you become Dad's public relations representative, huh? You and him are like Ali and Tyson …" Sam chuckled. "You both always come out of corners swinging."

"Yeah, well, we're workin' through some stuff in our own time, but you and him … Dean come on, you need him as much as he needs you … ying and yang, ya know?"

"Ying and Yang?" Dean quirked his eyebrow. "Man, I think California is making you soft Sammy. We're more like Blade and Rambo … ying and yang," Dean rolled his eyes at his younger brother.

"Talk to him Dean." The eldest sibling looked at his little brother and relented when he looked into those puppy eyes that looked so sincere. "Clear the air."

**Two Months Later, September 2003, University of Washington Medical Center**

Dean and Sam both walked into the hospital lobby with their father. "Come on boys," he encouraged them to the elevator.

"We're comin' Dad," Dean answered as he looked over his shoulder at Sam who was trailing behind. "Move your ass Sammy." Sam picked up the pace.

**Forty Minutes Later, Third Floor, Dr. Sadikov's Medical Office**

Dean was flashing his 1,000 watt smile at the blonde, petite receptionist. Sam snorted in his hand. Dean flashed him a hot glare. "Your just jealous she isn't lookin' at you like you're lunch Sammy. I was always the better lookin' brother," he mused. John sat and allowed the quiet banter between his boys. He was simply happy both boys were alive.

"Better looking?" Sam offered a mused smile. "You're not better looking just more horny."

"Well, at least I'm not a prude," he countered.

"Boys," John spoke softly. "This isn't the time or the place for this right now." He leaned over and indicated with the inclination of his head, "we aren't exactly alone in here ya know, so behave."

"Yes, sir," the answered in well practiced unison. John smiled warmly and went back to his magazine while he waited for his son's names to get called.

**Thirty-Minutes Later, Exam Room**

"Okay, your turn Sam hop up," the doctor encouraged as Dean put back on his shirt and took a seat next to his father while Sam was examined.

"So, are we getting cut loose doc?" Sam asked as Dr. Sadikov had him lie down on the table.

"Well," he pushed along Sam's healed incision, "Any pain?" He pushed on Sam's abdomen.

"No."

"Here?" Sam's small intake of breath was his answer.

"Sammy you okay?" Dean glared at the doctor for hurting his brother.

"Yeah, just a little tender," he answered honestly.

"It's expected, but you're healing nicely Sam, but as I told you a while ago … recovery for you should be about four months. You're looking good though."

"What about Dean?" John hedged.

"He's looking great," Dr. Sadikov replied. "The blood tests and MRI of his liver that were done earlier this week all came back with flying colors. Dr. Jessup evaluated Dean's blood work, liver enzymes and MRI and he was pleased."

"Pleased enough to let us leave Seattle?" Dean pushed. They had been staying with a friend of their fathers and fellow hunter, Jefferson Kincaid. He had a large A-Frame house up in the woods. It was quiet and roomy and surprisingly close to the major metropolis of Seattle and only a twenty minute drive into the city. He had offered his home to the Winchester clan while they recuperated after their immediate discharge from the hospital. Dr. Jessup and Dr. Sadikov had both required the boys to stay within a half hour of the hospital in the event a problem arose. They had also wanted to make sure Dean's liver wasn't showing any signs of rejection and that he was handling his medications as he should. Also, they had wanted to follow Sam's recovery a little more closely in lieu of the complications he had encountered.

"Well, Dr. Jessup consulted with the follow-up hospital your father suggested you would be around," the doctor looked at his paperwork. "Um… Blue Earth Medical Center, right? In Minnesota?"

"Yes," John answered. "We have a good family friend there and the boys have known him practically all their lives. It's a nice quiet place for them to get their strength back." John was secretly looking forward to touching base with his old friend Jim Murphy and he was more than ready to be in a smaller city. Seattle was nice but he needed something with a less urban feel.

"Dr. Jessup said that the follow-up doctor for both Dean and Sam will be Dr. Polanski. He will continue with Dean's routine blood and liver tests also the MRI's. He will send the relay the results to Dr. Jessup and they will be conferring with one another."

"Doc, how long for all this poking and prodding?" Dean grumbled slightly.

"Hey, I know it gets old after a while Dean, but you know the drill … every month for a year and if there are no setbacks within that year then we'll wean you down once every three months and when you're two years solid out from your transplant you'll be good for twice a year check-ups."

"And, how much longer until I can do stuff, you know aside from just walking a stuff? Because I'm going nuts," Dean commented.

"No heavy lifting for a year Dean, no mountain climbing until you're a year out," he joked. "I'll let you return to driving but not for long distances, okay? I mean you can drive around town and stuff but no out of state, long distance driving. In that case you're a passenger. Look you're young and have your whole life ahead of you, so don't push it. You and your dad have both been given a list of what you can and cannot do, so don't push your luck. You're doing great, but let your body heal and adjust to the new liver, okay?"

"Yeah," Dean acquiesced.

"Good, now Sam," the doctor turned his attention to his other patient. "Look kiddo, I want to see you taking it easy for at least another couple months. You can drive with no restrictions now, but no running marathons. Get some more weight back on you and rest. I'm guessing you're biting at the bit to get back to school, but I'd like to see you wait until Winter Quarter, okay. "It's fall now anyway and classes have most likely started, so I'd like you to rest and I see no problem with you returning to classes when they start for winter. When is that anyway?"

"Second week of January. A little over four months."

"I'd also like you to see Dr. Bloom again … the doctor you saw at Stanford, I'll give him a call to give him a heads up. I just want him to give you the once over before classes start, okay?" Sam nodded. "Good, and hey with the extra time off you'll be able to spend the holidays with your family." Sam offered a mild smile to the doctor's comment … he was slowly working some things out with his father, but he suspected he'd still leave with some tension. John had already hinted at him staying with the family and not returning to school which had already caused a heated conversation or two before Jefferson or Dean would put a stop to it.

"So, they're getting the green light then?" John pushed for a solid answer.

"Yeah, we're cutting the apron strings, but Dean," the doctor cast a hard look at his patient. "You keep up with your follow-ups, no forgetting and be vigilant with your meds."

"I will doc," Dean assured.

"Okay, then," the doctor smiled. "You know how to get a hold of me if you need anything, so don't hesitate." All three Winchesters nodded.

The Winchesters walked out of the hospital all feeling a bit lighter than they had when they walked in. The release was really all about Dean and his recovery. The staff gave the green light which meant Dean really was okay and ready to leave the city. He still had some healing and John and Sam were both dedicated to making sure Dean didn't push his limits right now.

"It'll be nice to see Pastor Jim again," Sam commented as they walked across the parking lot to the Impala.

"Yeah, I'm ready to get out of Seattle," Dean agreed.

"Dean?" John spoke and Dean looked at him and saw the smile on his father's face.

"What?" He could see an amused glint in his dad's eyes. John lifted his hand and dangled the keys to Dean's beloved car. John had driven the boys for their check-ups in the Impala because it was more comfortable than his truck.

"You wanna drive her back to Jefferson's?" Dean's practically dislocated his jaw with the wide smile that broke across his face.

"Hell yes," he said hurriedly and grabbed up the keys. Sam and John both smiled briefly at each other, both men happy to see Dean excited and healthy.

"You're drivin' to Jim's," John leaned in a said quietly to Sam. "No matter how much of a fit he pitches."

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Don't worry."

John Nodded. Dean was already in the car and honked the horn.

"Come on ladies," he yelled. He pushed in a cassette, AC/DC's _Back in Black_ blared from the speakers as they started to pull out of the visitor lot.

"Down a few decibels Dean," John complained from the passenger seat. Dean looked in the rear view mirror and smiled at his brother with a mischievous grin.

"Hey, Dad, you know the house rule, you made it, driver picks the music…shotgun shuts his cake hole." John cast a bemused look at his son. Sam snickered quietly in the back seat, oh yeah, Dean Winchester was back.

**To Be Continued**

**There will be one final chapter/epilogue to follow this chapter. It will be posted next weekend. I hope you enjoyed chapter 4. I'll start working on the final chapter/epilogue over the weekend, as time permits. Thanks again for reading! I appreciate it.**


	5. The Gloaming

Disclaimer: refer to chapter one

**NOTE TO READERS: **I'm posting a couple days early, but I didn't think you'd mind. This is the final chapter and I wanted to thank everyone who took the time to review and/or comment on the previous chapters. I appreciate you taking the time. I hope you enjoy this last installment. It's around 11 pages long.

Many thanks for reading this story and my others!

**Side Note:** Gloaming or 'The Gloaming' is that moment when day and night meet, it's a half-light of sorts when all is illuminated in a muted golden light before twilight happens and then it is gone. I've always thought of it as a moment of meeting and goodbye.

**Chapter Five**

**The Gloaming**

By Dawn Nyberg

"_This is what I brought you. This you can keep… You may forget me. I promise to depart just promise one thing. Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep…" _excerpt by AFI, _Prelude 12/21_

**December 20, 2003, Pastor Jim's House**

"Hey Sammy!" Dean called as he walked down the long hallway toward Jim's library. Dean always knew where to find his little brother when books could be found. Jim had made a late lunch and Dean wanted to sink his teeth into a homemade cheeseburger, but they were waiting for his wayward brother to show up. "Geez, what are you waitin' for…" Dean's voice dropped off instantly when he saw Sam stretched out and asleep on Jim's over sized leather couch. There was a thick book open and across his stomach. Dean smiled softly at the sight.

"Sammy?" Dean spoke softly. He was still debating on whether to wake him or not. "Sam?" Dean ruffled his brother's hair gently. Sam stirred. "Hey sleeping beauty," Dean raised his voice just a bit when he saw his sibling was close to waking. Sam scrunched his face and opened his eyes.

"Yeah?" His voice was sleep inflected.

"Pastor Jim has grub on the table. Come on bean pole," Dean slapped his brother's thigh playfully. "We still gotta put some weight back on you. You okay?"

"Yeah, why?" Sam rubbed a hand across his face.

"Well, taking naps in the middle of the day isn't your thing and this is the fourth time I've found you asleep in the last couple weeks."

"I think of them as little vacations. I'm fine."

"You sure? 'Cause if you're not feeling good then…" Sam could see the concern in Dean's eyes although he knew his big brother was trying to be nonchalant about his worry.

"Dean, believe me, okay … I'm fine. It was just a nap." Sam wasn't lying, he felt pretty good, he just fell asleep, plain and simple.

Sam started to push himself up off the couch and Dean gave him a hand and pulled him up.

"You shouldn't be doin' that," Sam commented.

"Oh, please," Dean groused. "Your light weight bean pole ass hardly weighs anything."

"Hey, I've gained fifteen pounds back since leaving the hospital, so cut me some slack. Anyway, once I can start working out again I'll gain some muscle back. Once I get back to school … I'll gain some more," Sam replied absently as he walked out of the room. He didn't see the look of disappointment on Dean's face. The topic of school had been a touchy subject with John and Dean. They were both trying to convince Sam to stay with them and go back to hunting once they were both able to return after they recovered. Dean hadn't been as vocal as their father, but he admittedly wanted his little brother with him … where he knew he was safe and protected.

Sam had already spoken to his counselor and had arranged for his registration for Winter Session and would return to his dorm room.

"Boys," John said with a warm smile as the walked into the kitchen. "Jim and I thought we were going to have to send Barnaby on a search and rescue mission for the two of you." Barnaby, Jim's orange and white spotted Blood Hound was splayed on the kitchen floor chewing a piece of rawhide.

"Yeah," Dean snorted as he eyed the dog. "I'm sure he would have got right on that search and rescue mission as soon as he finished with that," Dean inclined his head toward the rawhide. John and Jim chuckled.

"You have a point Dean," Jim commented lightly. "Old Barnaby has his priorities in his old age. Come on boys, have a seat." John looked over both his of his sons as they sat. He could see the remnants of sleep waxing away from his youngest.

"You okay Sammy?" John asked as he kept his eyes on his youngest.

"Yeah, I'm good," he replied as he reached for the bowl of potato salad.

"Sleeping beauty was takin' a nap," Dean jumped in and Sam threw him a warning glare and Dean shrugged in response, "Well, you were."

"It was just a nap Dad," Sam assured. "It's not some medical crisis … I wanted to close my eyes and I did. I took a nap. It's not the end of the world. Anyway, once I get back to school … the word nap won't exist in my vocabulary."

"Very true," Jim injected quickly in an attempt to get through dinner without the tension that the subject of Stanford brought up. He relaxed when he saw John simply nod and not bring up the issue of school.

"You'd tell us if you weren't feeling good wouldn't you? Even a little…" Sam looked at his father for a moment and the rest of the table.

"I really am okay Dad; promise… it was just a nap." John saw the truth in his son's eyes and nodded with a soft smile and returned to preparing his plate to eat.

**Christmas Day 2003**

"I can't live this life forever!" Sam shouted in the parlor. "I'm going back to school," Sam waved his hands in frustration.

"You're abandoning your family," John's voice was dark. "We're not good enough for you is that it?"

"Dad," Dean tried to mediate. _So, much for a quiet family holiday_, he thought to himself.

"You're a horses ass you know that, God … why does it always have to be black and white with you, huh?" Sam was livid.

"Because there are no shades of grey Samuel not in this life!" John barked back.

"No Dad! Not in your life or hunting! I'm not like that and I don't wanna be. I'm getting on that plane New Years Day and I'm going back to Palo Alto."

"Sammy…" Dean spoke gently.

"What? You on his side now?" Sam spun and looked at his brother.

"I'm not on anyone's side okay … its … just maybe you should stay a while longer, you know finish healing." Dean suggested trying to keep his voice neutral.

"I am healed … enough to go back to school. I can't do this. I want a life a life that doesn't include hunting… can't you understand that?" His eyes were pleading.

"Sam," John's voice broke into his son's conversation. "I can't support this decision. You belong here with me and your brother. You belong in the family business." Sam gave his father an incredulous look.

"Family business… you've got to be kidding me," the sarcasm literally dripped from his mouth. "We hunt supernatural stuff … I wish to hell I didn't even know what was out there in the dark. This is a family nightmare not a business." John stepped forward and grabbed Sam by the scruff of his shirt. Dean tensed but before he could say anything Jim intervened.

"John! Let the boy go!" John let go with a small shove.

"Go," John hissed. "You think everything your brother and I do … what you used to do is a nightmare that we aren't doing something meaningful than we don't need you in this fight."

"So, we're right back where we left off months ago when I first left?" Sam question was really more of a statement to his father, a declaration. "If I want to go … go … and don't come back," he hedged. John glared at his son for a moment.

"Take it however you want … you're the one betraying your family. Your place is with us… hunting evil and saving lives." John stormed out of the room and they heard the front door slam. Shortly after John's truck roared to life and kicked up snow and gravel on the way down the driveway.

"Your father will calm down Sam and come to his senses," Jim offered.

"No he won't … 'cause he's never wrong in his mind," Sam grumbled and turned to walk down the hallway.

"Now where are you going?" Dean asked and Sam kept walking.

"Give him a few minutes Dean," Jim encouraged.

"Boy, things kinds went up the creek quick, huh?" Dean rubbed a frustrated hand over his face.

"How about a piece of pie, huh? We'll let your father cool off and Sam will simmer down. We'll work it out," Jim tried to comfort.

"Pie? What is it the new fix all?"

"Hell no," Jim said with an honest smile and low laugh. Dean raised an eyebrow at the religious man's response. "But, I'm hungry for pie and we have some time to wait things out."

"Yeah, I guess. Far be it for me to turn down a piece of pie." Dean knew the situation was bad, but Jim was right he had to give Sam some time and hopefully his father would come back and at least try to smooth things over.

**Thirty-Minutes Later**

Dean and Jim heard the bedroom door open and footsteps in the hallway. "See, I told you he'd calm down." Dean offered a tentative smile that was short lived when he saw Sam enter the kitchen with his large duffel bag and backpack.

"What's this crap?" Dean asked as he stood up.

"I called the airlines and they put me on stand-by. I'm leaving for Palo Alto today."

"Sammy come on man, Dad didn't mean what he said," Dean offered.

"Sure he did … come on Dean we grew up with the same man, he meant what he said, every damn word."

"It's Christmas Day Sammy, you'll never get a seat," Dean countered.

"They already said it looked good for an empty seat. I'm leaving … why delay the inevitable? I was always gonna leave. I'm not staying."

"Yeah, I know," Dean grumbled. "You've made that pretty clear."

"You too, huh?" Sam looked hurt as he turned to leave.

"No, Sammy, wait, okay," Dean reached out and grabbed his brother's arm. "Stay until New Year's."

"No."

"You can't leave things like this with Dad."

"Screw him," Sam spat. "I'm tired of his my way or the highway crap!" Sam pushed a button on Dean and he snapped.

"You're a selfish bastard you know that! Dad has done everything he could for us. Hunting is saving lives Sam … it means something. What's Stanford mean? You can lie to yourself all you want, but you are who you are …"

"Oh yeah, and who's that?"

"You're one of us," Dean countered with a level, matter of fact face.

"Like hell! I'm not one of you and I'm never gonna be."

"Where do you think you're going?" Dean called after his brother. "I got the keys to the car and I'm not taking you to the airport ... you don't have to leave now." Dean tried to reason.

"Yeah, I do," Sam replied softly. "Anyway, you don't have to take me I called a cab when I finished with the airlines," Sam looked out the window. "And, it just pulled up." Sam looked at his brother and offered him a small lopsided smile, it was thin with stress. "Take care of yourself Dean," Dean met his brother's expressive eyes. "I mean it you know. Look out for yourself and don't forget to take your meds and stuff. Go to your appointments … don't miss any." He looked at his brother with wide dark eyes and Dean just wanted to grab him and hold him in a crushing bear hug, but he didn't and he suspected it would be a regret he'd harbor for a long time.

"You too kiddo," he said quietly. "Don't forget to see Dr. Bloom when you get in town."

"I won't." The taxi honked its horn and Sam opened the door and waved at him to wait. "Thanks Pastor Jim for everything."

"You're welcome. If you ever need…" Jim knew better than to try and make Sam stay even though he knew the chasm between father and son would only grow until it hit a tipping point. Sam was a Winchester and usually when a Winchester mind was made up it was set.

"I know," Sam smiled at Jim. "I gotta go Dean."

"Yeah, I know. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"About being selfish I…"

"Yeah, I know." He assured with a soft smile. "Bye Dean." Sam ducked his head and dropped his eyes slightly before leaving out the door. It made Dean ache.

"Bye Sammy." Dean stood transfixed in his spot. He could hear the taxi door close and heard the engine rev and pull away. He wanted to run out there but it wouldn't change anything … Sam was gone, and Dean knew he wasn't coming back anytime soon, maybe ever. He felt Jim's hand on his shoulder and nodded at the man.

**Two Hours Later**

John walked in through the kitchen and saw Jim sitting at the table drinking a tall mug of coffee. The house was quiet and John sat heavily down in a chair joining his old friend. "You finally blow off that head of steam?" Jim commented as he took a long drink of coffee. John let out a sigh and leaned forward on an elbow he placed on the table. He glanced toward the other room.

"The boys are quiet," he commented. "Sammy calm down?"

"I think resigned would better suit Sam's demeanor the last time I saw him," Jim was deliberately being cryptic.

"Look … I'm sorry the way it all came out, okay? I mean, I know this was almost an exact repeat of the last time. I screwed up," John offered softly. "But, he does belong with me and his brother. It's safer for him … he's not out there alone. I can't say I'm supportive when I want him here. This is where he belongs with us and this life."

"Second chances are rare John," Jim began. "And, you blew yours royally."

"I'll talk to him … make him understand," John offered.

"He's not here John and even if he were you'd only end up telling him he's betraying his family all over again." Jim's voice held a hint of anger.

"Where'd he go? Dean go with him?" John knew the car was still here because he had parked next to it. The boys were prone to taking walks on Jim's vast property for exercise.

"He's gone," Jim replied flatly. "Dean is down the hall in his and Sam's room."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Where do you think?"

"Sonofabitch," John hissed under his breath. He stood up abruptly. "How long ago? I'm dragging his ass back from the airport."

"John … he got a standby seat and I already checked … he got a seat and the plane took off over an hour ago, Sam's gone." John stood there and said nothing. His youngest was gone and he'd left on the heels of a huge fight … ultimatums … and suddenly John realized how fractured his family was and there was no quick fix.

John walked down the hall and leaned in the doorway to Dean and Sam's room. Dean was propped up against his headboard reading a _Motor Trend_ magazine. "Hey sport," John offered casually.

"Sammy's gone," Dean answered without looking up from his reading material.

"I know, Jim told me son, I'm…"

"What? Sorry?" Dean looked at John now and his father could see the anger and hurt in his firstborn's eyes.

"Dean," he started.

"No, save it, okay? He's gone and that's that. I don't' want to talk about it anymore." John offered a small nod and left his son alone and it wasn't mentioned again.

**Four Months Later, April 2004, Stanford University**

Sam and Zach crossed the quad together toward the library. "You talk to your family at all dude?"

"No. Leave it alone Zach," Sam warned. Sam hadn't spoken about his family since his return other than to say it ended just like the last time and there wasn't anything more to say. He'd gone to Dr. Bloom and was given a clean bill of health to return to classes and only asked to see him once more in May for a last final check before allowing Sam to return to all of his previous activities. They walked toward the library to meet Zach's older sister Rebecca and they spotted her sitting at a round table shaded by an umbrella. "Who's that with Becky?" Sam asked changing the subject from his family. Sam couldn't ignore the beautiful blonde girl he'd never seen before that was sitting a talking to Becky. He saw the girl's talking and he watched the unknown girl laughing and smiling. She took his breath away.

"Not sure," Zach answered. "Becca's got so many chick friends I can't keep up."

"Sam!" Rebecca called out. She hugged him. "How are you doing?" Sam rolled his eyes. She had been a mother hen since his return whenever she was around him.

"I'm fine Becky," he said with a sheepish smile. He looked at the mystery girl that stood by Rebecca.

"Oh, Sam, this is my friend, Jessica Moore … Jessica this is Sam Winchester." Both Jessica and Sam looked at each other and smiled. It was that nervous, I'm attracted to you way more than I should be smile. She extended a hand.

"Hey, Sam," she smiled and Sam couldn't help but notice the California sun dance in her hair.

"Hey Jess," he replied and blushed. "I mean Jessica, sorry…" she laughed.

"Jess is fine. So, you're pre-law, huh?"

"Yeah," Sam answered with a smile and sat at the table to talk.

**Meanwhile, Across the Quad**

A tall black truck sat at a parking meter and John Winchester watched his youngest son from a distance. Dean was still mending at Jim's and couldn't hunt yet, but John had agreed to help Caleb with a hunt nearby that would only take him away from Dean for three to four days, plus it was a hunt in California, so he took a moment to sneak to campus and check on his child as he'd already done a couple of other times since he'd returned to school. Dean never came only asked if he saw Sammy and if he looked good … if he looked happy. He knew it was too hard for Dean to see his little brother without wanting to actually talk to him. He watched Sam smile and laugh. He looked good, he looked healthy and the petite blonde his son was talking to looked feisty and she reminded him of Mary when she was that age. He could see Sam leaning toward her as he talked and knew his son was attracted to her. He smiled but couldn't ignore the empty place in his chest that seemed to fill for a short while when he looked at his baby boy. He hoped that one day they'd find their way back to one another. His cell phone rang and he looked at the caller ID and flipped it open.

"Yeah son? No, I'm on my way back. The hunt was a quick in and out. No trouble. Yeah, everything is okay. No, I'm sure. He looks good. You doing okay? Good, I'll see you tomorrow some time." The call ended and John snapped his phone closed. He started up his truck and took one last look at his smiling and laughing son from a distance.

"Take care of yourself Sammy," he said quietly. He put the truck in reverse and backed up. He watched Stanford disappear into his rear view.

The sign on the side of the road was large and always made John hesitate, _Thanks for Visiting. You're now leaving Palo Alto, come again soon_. The sign always leached away the fullness he felt after seeing Sam. The empty place inside left by his youngest always returned when he left the city.

The truck turned onto an interstate ramp and John looked into the distance, the black ribbon of asphalt highway disappearing into the mountains he put his mind on his other son in Blue Earth and researching leads on the demon that killed Mary. He hadn't told Dean he'd found out it was a demon. He needed to know more before he said anything; he needed to know the truth.

Palo Alto was now a distant blur in the rear view, _Love you Sammy_, John thought silently to himself. Someday he'd make things right, but he just didn't know when that someday would come.

**Almost Two Years Later, October 31, 2005, Palo Alto, California, Late Evening**

"Whoa, easy tiger," Dean smirked as he hunched over his little brother while pinning him by his neck to the floor. Sam stared wide-eyed up at his brother from the floor.

"Dean?! You scared the crap outta me." Sam blurted in frustration and surprise. Dean grinned.

" 'Cause you're out of practice," he replied. Sam countered quickly and knocked his brother down and just as quickly Sam was now in the stance of control looking down at his big brother, the big brother he hadn't seen or talked to since he left Pastor Jim's that cold Christmas day.

"Or not," Dean offered a bemused smile. "Get off me," he grumbled. Sam relented and they stood.

"Dean, what in the hell are you doin' here?"

"I was lookin' for a beer," Dean joked as he clapped each hand against his brother's shoulders quickly.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked again looking at his older sibling.

"Okay," Dean replied. "We need to talk," Dean offered casually as if his stopping by for midnight visits was common place as if he saw his little brother every day. Sam looked at Dean slightly taken aback at his presence in his apartment and couldn't believe his big brother was standing in front of him. It had been a long time … too long.

**The End**

**Well, we all know what happens from that point on … I wanted to write a pre-series, story that would eventually meet up with the series at some point, so I chose to have it meet the series at the beginning when Sam and Dean begin their journey again as brothers after their lengthy separation. I wanted all the same emotional baggage to arrive at the doorstep, so I hope you enjoyed the story and at least you know what happens from here on out … we get to see it on TV. Also, I wanted to note credit to the pilot episode 1.01 for the end dialogue of this story.**

**Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed the conclusion of the story. I have some more ideas for stories, but alas, time isn't my best friend for extended writing projects right now, so no promises as to when I'll post another story on FFnet. I appreciate every comment; review and PM I have received during this story, thanks!**

**Until next time…**


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